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/ 




Falsely Accused 


A Story of 


Russian Intrigue 



/j^Yx 


By WILLIAM FRANK ROLL 


COPYRIGHT, OCT. 1919 
BY 

W. F. ROLL 


' V V 


CITIZEN PRINT SHOP 
209 New High St. 

Los Angeles, Cal. 





WILLIAM F. ROLL 
Student 

One of the first men in Russia to rebel 
against Autocracy. This photo was made 
in 1902. 


©C1A534949 




Mr. Roll fell into the hands of Autocracy and was exiled 
to a Siberian prison. This photo, taken in 1904, shows clearly 
what this prison and its cruelties did for Mr. Roll. 




In 1905 Mr. Roll broke away from the prison in Siberia 
and after much hardship was successful In making his way to 
America. This photo, made in 1919, shows what American 
freedom has done for Mr. Roll. 



FOREWORD 


I T is hoped the following narration will prove the source 
of more or less entertainment to the persons bold enough 
to read it. The book was written hurriedly from almost 
illegible data, time-^orn family documents, revived traditions 
and the personal reminiscences of Mr. William Prank Roll, 
now a resident of Los Angeles, California. If anything, the 
volume is a story of adventure, and of Russian domestic in- 
trigue. The concluding chapter has something of a political 
character and the statements contained therein are vouched 
for by the above-named gentleman, whose step-father, Frank 
Roll, may be called the hero of this book. 

Mr. Roll desires to utilize the story for dramatic and 
screen presentation. To a certain extent, the narrative has 
been made to take on the form of a serial or episodical scen- 
ario and will admit of the introduction by its producer of 
additional characterizations and other visualizations. 

The castle of the Tchorjevsky ’s is situated some distance 
from Kiev, the capitol city of Ukrania or Little Russia, and 
is a venerable pile. Ukrania, which is noAV attracting the 
attention of the world by reason of its possible permanent 
political and economic status, is generally known as ‘Hhe 
granery of Europe.” An interesting incident or series of inci- 
dent’s in connection with the modern history of the Tchor- 
jevskys is the flight to the United States of a very wealthy 
male member of the family who was a staunch supporter of 
the Polish rebellion against Russia in 1861. When he hur- 
riedly left Ukrania he carried with him coin and credits to 
the value of $6,000,000. Although a diligent search has been 
made for him no trace of M. Tchorjevsky has been definitely 
found. It was reported that he had conferred, in an official 
way, with the Russian consul stationed in San Francisco, a 
former admiral in the Russian navy. The report has never 
been confirmed and strange to relate the best detective service 
of Europe and of the United States has been unable to locate 
the whereabouts of the consul after his mysterious disappear- 
ance in San Francisco in the year 1865. Mr. William Prank 
Roll is one of M. Tchorjevsky ’s direct and largest heirs, not 
only to the fortune the latter brought to this country, but to 
immense landed estates in Ukrania. 



MEMOIRS OF FRANK ROLL 


CHAPTER I 

O FATHER, descendant of those noble crusaders who, in 
behalf of Christian principles, battled with Roman 
legions struggling for fanatical idolism and the ultim- 
ate barbarism of the world, help me in my helplessness! 

I have no friends. I have been despoiled. Even, when 
at my mother’s breast that which belonged to me was taken 
away from me. When I became of matured age and asked for 
my own I was told I was possessed of nothing. Good friends 
endeavored to aid me in the work of restoration of my for- 
tune but finances were lacking to successfully combat con- 
spiracy. 

During the first war in 1875, I was accused of being a 
Russian spy. A despotic German court-martial upon perjured 
testimony convicted me. Friends sacrificed their property to 
save me from a military sentence, which for me meant death, 
without avail. Concealed in a box, I was secretly shipped 
across the border, paying great sums to drunken guards to 
escape in safety. 

O my Father! The German, in this struggle with Russia 
transformed himself into a creature of rapine, murder, lust and 
cruel cowardice. Without mercy he slew innocents in the most 
barbaric ways. As our ancient enemies, the Romans, threw 
dice for the garments of Christ so German uniformed beasts 
gambled for the possession of virtuous women and maids 
whom they made to suffer a fate worse than death. Mercen- 
ary, avaricious, without love of charity, ignominious and das- 
tardly, they pursued their evil way without mercy and con- 
science. 

Following my escape from Germany, and in accordance 
with the resolution I had firmly made, I presented myself 
to certain officers of the Russian Army. I explained my posi- 
tion and my determination and asked to serve Russia in the 
ranks. I declared I was willing to do all in my power for 
the Empire and that also I was determined to avenge, to the 
last drop of my blood, the great wrongs inflicted upon me 
and my generation by German injustice and cupidity. I pro- 

7 


duced official documents showing that I had been sentenced to 
death in my native country. Apparently this was conclusive 
and immediately I was assigned to the barracks of a division 
of grenadiers in the Russian army. Both officers and private 
soldiers gave me the military salute and I was welcomed to 
the ranks as a comrade and a true patriot. 

Later on, I called certain high officers together and ex- 
plaining that I had important information to transmit to them, 
asked permission to go into a tent where the knowledge of 
my efforts would not be generally known. I was asked to 
explain my meaning. 

“ Gentlemen,'’ I said, “When I was a cadet, I was en- 
trusted with important secrets by my government. Among 
them was an exact knowledge of certain fortifications and 
mines in this neighborhood. If, in your judgment, this knowl- 
edge would be of service to Russia I will be pleased to put 
it on paper for you so that you may preserve and utilize it. ’ ’ 

Of course, there was but one answer and we were soon 
gathered together in a strongly guarded tent and I was pro- 
vided with the necessary material. As I sketched these plans 
the officers, among whom were engineers, closely from time 
to time, scrutinized my work and praised me for my memory 
and cleverness. Nothing could be heard in the tent save the 
scratching of my pen as I reproduced a draft of the informa- 
tion I thought to be of great value to the armies of Russia 
and of greater danger to Germany. 

This, my father, took place on August 14, 1875. 

The next day a Russian captain came to my quarters and 
looking at me sternly ordered me to follow him. I did so 
until we reached an open space surrounded by trees. We were 
accompanied by guards. The royal standard was displayed 
all around us. The offiber approached and gazing steadily into 
my eyes he slapped me on the shoulder and exclaimed, “We 
know your game and you will never return to your country." 
He pointed to a tree which stood apart from the woods. “Be- 
neath that tree has been dug a place for you where you will 
remain, forever! Now what do you think of our plan?" 

“Why are you suspicious of me?" I demanded." Volun- 
tarily, I have given the army high officers exact plans and 
sketches of the formation and construction of important 
German fortifications, which, if correctly fixed in his mind, 
will enable your commanding general to make a successful 
assault. A victory over the Germans, now, may have far- 

8 


reaching results and in return for giving Russia the means 
by which such a victory can be won — you and your superiors 
offer me — a grave. 

“Was it for this I suffered in a German prison, cold and 
hungry for several months? Was it for this I faced the execu- 
tion of a death sentence pronounced against me by a corrupt 
German court-martial? When I crossed the border at the risk 
of my life to join the Russian army I swore to be loyal to 
my adopted country. I begin by laying before its officers the 
most important of war secrets and in return, I repeat, am pre- 
sented with a tomb.’’ 

The officer made no reply. He still looked me, calmly, 
yet, significantly, in the eyes. 

“At any rate,” I finally added, “you will allow me to 
kiss the royal standard for which I have already made many 
sacrifices.” I turned aside and kissed the ropes supporting 
the national emblem. 

My heart was filled, 0, father! with bitterness and grief 
as I stepped forward and stood by that yawning grave pre- 
pared for my abiding place — grief at the thought of my near 
disgraceful death and the bitterness which comes to a man 
when he realizes his honest motives have been misconstrued 
and that those whom he trusted have become his enemies. 

A company of soldiers, including the firing squad, was 
drawn up in line on the plaza. They awaited the orders for 
the execution of my sentence. A batallion commander deliv- 
ered a document to an adjutant who escorted by a captain 
of grenadiers marched to a point within a few feet of me. The 
captain ordered me to raise my right hand while the findings 
of a court of inquiry were read to me. 

The document stated that “Frank Roll, believed to be a 
citizen of Germany had made false statements to officers of 
the Russian army concerning his former alleged connection 
with the army of Germany and that for the purpose of in- 
volving the Russian army in a dangerous trap had fabricated 
plans of certain German fortresses and mines which plans 
were believed to be misleading and false. Therefore, the said 
Prank Roll is sentenced to be forthwith shot.” The document 
was approved by General , commanding officer. 

A priest and a soldier came forward. The priest who was 
a cleric of the orthodox Greek Church was a sinister looking 
man and despite his robes of office and the immense gold chain 
thrown around his neck, to which was attached a golden cross, 

9 


I drew away. However, he blessed me and as he handed me 
the crucifix to kiss, he whispered beneath his heavy mous- 
tache, showing his gleaming teeth white as the fangs of a 
hound, “Good-bye, you German spy. Now you will go to hell.’^ 
Then turning, he slowly walked to where a group of officers 
stood. 

0 My Father! how can I describe the anguish of those 
moments? My trembling soul spoke in a prayer I uttered to 
God to whom I raised my arms in supplication. I prayed that 
he might intervene and stop the perpetration of this dastardly 
crime, and that if I must die thus, I besought him in the 
name of the Christ, to accept my cruel end as perfect expiation 
of my past sins. 

A soldier draped a black cloth around my head and I 
awaited the word which was to send my soul into eternity. 
My heart beat furiously for a time, and then it seemed to me 
that all of the blood of my body had rushed madly to my 
head. A tempest was raging in my distracted mind, yet, 
although shaking with dread anticipation, I kept my feet 
and stood erect. 

1 heard the command to fire. 

There was a pause, a silence during which memories of 
scenes and acts in my life flashed like distinct photographs 
before my mental vision and I suddenly grew faint at heart 
and nauseated. Then came the rattle of musketry, as loud 
I thought as a peal of mountain thunder and I swayed back 
and forth. 

Was this death? I felt no pain as I sank to my knees. 
These soft objects which were falling on and about me were 
the leaves of the tree under whose branches I stood. “Mer- 
ciful God!’^ I exclaimed. “I am unhurt!’^ 

The revulsion of feeling following my realization of what 
had actually occurred was overwhelming. I had been made 
to endure this heart-breaking experience as a stern means of 
testing my veracity, for the soldiers had fired their bullets 
into the tree top. 

What barbarism — the very perfection of studied, system- 
atic cruelty ! Sharp pains attacked my heart and my poor 
brain reeled as all grew dark before me and I pitched forward 
into the pit, I had believed was made for me. 

I was taken from that horrible hole by a squad of soldiers 
who assisted me to walk until I came in the presence of Gen- 
eral . My fears had now passed and my self-pos- 

10 


session returned. I held up my head proudly as would, under 
the circumstances, any loyal and honest man. I was not 
ashamed of the physical weakness and mental agony I had 
shown during that mock execution. It was not so much the 
fear of death as the knowledge of my innocence which had 
broken into bits all of my reserve and fortitude. So I calmly 
faced General . 

The Russian advanced and, very much to my surprise, 
shook my hand. He invited me to be seated at a table and 
resumed his own chair. I observed on this table a small box. 
It contained a military decoration. The plans I had drawn 
were on the table and by the side of them the uniform of a 
captain of Russian grenadiers. 

General , scrutinizing my face as if he were 

reading my soul, slowly with emphasized deliberation said: 
“Monsieur Roll, I have concluded to trust you and am going 
t'o use these plans. Of course, I expect to lose some men in 
making the assault. My losses cannot, in any way, be attrib- 
uted to you, provided — ’’ and here his tones were terribly 
menacing — “your plans are correct and have been drawn for 
the purpose of winning this assault. If my army is successful 
this decoration shall be yours and you shall be commissioned 
a captain in my batallion of grenadiers and entitled to wear 
this uniform. But if I discover you have deceived me with 
false drawings and thus endangered the safety of the Empire 
and my army you will be immediately shot.^’ 

I arose and bowed to the old commander. 

Turning to an officer, General said : 

“Captain you will see that Monsieur Roll is equipped 
with every means to safely conduct a detail to a ford with 
which he is familiar in order that our forces subsequently 
may, safely cross the river. You will then return him at once 
under guard, to the barracks where he will remain confined 
until further orders.'^’ 

The officer took me in charge and I was soon provided 
with food and stimulant. He ordered up a troop of cavalry 
and I was given a mount. I leaped into the saddle and rode 
by) the side of the captain of the detail. We trotted swiftly 
in the direction of the ford, and my heart thrilled with joy 
at the prospect of accomplishing my first effective triumph — 
of striking a decisive and fatal blow against lust for war and 
aggrandizement. 

Moving swiftly we traversed a wide expanse of level land 


11 


reaching to the low foothills at the base of a high mountain 
range. Almost secreted by nature from casual observation 
was a narrow and tortuous path through which I led my com- 
panions all of whom were visibly excited although none of the 
party save the captain and myself were aware of the real 
object of our expedition. On the thither side of this string 
of foothills there ran a torrential mountain river filled with 
hidden boulders and jagged rocks showing their teeth in places 
above the whirling current of the stream. It was a mad river 
and on the opposite side its stony banks arose to a high alti- 
tude. It boomed like a waterfall. Every few rods we observed 
deadly whirlpools and the surface indications of depths reach- 
ing probably to the bowels of the earth. To bridge this fierce 
stream apparently seemed an impossibility for the resources 
of military construction. 

We drew rein and surveyed, for a moment the rushing, 
leaping, twisting water. 

“It’s crazy,” grimly remarked the captain nodding his 
head at the foaming water. 

To the north, a quarter of a mile, the banks of the river 
narrowed to a deep gorge. Along one side of it there ran a 
natural narrow path over which artillery could safely pass. 
Prom where we stood this path appeared to be a dull white 
streak no wider than a man’s stride. I knew that it lead to a 
shallow sink or depression in a little valley between the hills 
and the mountains. Here the turbulent stream softly spread 
over a wide tract of land proceeding with a slight current in 
the direction of a second gorge and gaining in depth and 
velocity as the banks drew closer together. 

Sure of my ground, we galloped to the first gorge and 
over the road I have described to the valley beyond. We turned 
to the right and rode across the ford to a pass in the mountains 
on the east side of the river, which for the time being was 
only a shallow pond. 

“Splendid,” whispered the officer. “You are a brave 
man, and I believe in you,” and he put his broad palm on 
his heart. 

I started in my excitement to enter the pass. “Stop, 
Monsieur Roll!” he commanded. “I have orders to return 
from this point.” 

We turned about and started for the cantonment. On 
my way back I told the captain that from the pass on the 
far side of the river there arose a road to the top of the 

12 


mountain ridge which, with but little labor, could be made 
possible for the artillery. From the ridge would be plainly 
discerned the German fortifications. The slopes of the moun- 
tains leading to the German outposts were mined, but the 
charts would disclose the location of these defenses. Several 
plateaus on the mountain ridge formed advantageous locations 
for shell fire directed down the slopes and over the small hills 
and valleys which would lay before the batteries and the 
German fortresses. The guns could be protected and partly 
hidden on these land surfaces surrounded as they were by 
natural barriers of earth and granite. 

“General will of course, dismantle and then 

destroy the enemies fortifications with his artillery,” I said 
to the captain in conclusion. For answer he reached over 
and quickly pinched my thigh and muttered, “It is done, sir. 
It is done.” On reaching camp I was at once shown to my 
prison quarters and left for the time to the company of my 
own thoughts. 

On the third day after my visit to the ford in the morning 
I saw the rear of the Russian column disappear over the plain. 
The view from my door, although limited to a small surface 
area, admitted a wide curve of the horizon and the sky. As 
the day wore on I heard the booming of cannon and knew that 
General had commenced the attack. 

Dropping to my knees I implored Almighty God, who 
directs the destiny of all armies, to vouchsafe victory to the 
Russians and to this end I prayed that my plans would be read 
aright and that my motives would be understood and rightly 
appreciated. And I asked 0, my father, that you be permitted 
to intercede in heaven for your son imprisoned here on earth 
and in a strange country. 

The cannonading was terrific and reverberating through 
the gorges, the passes and the mountains. Its echoes spread 
themselves over the plain and could be heard in the most 
violent outbursts in my barrack-quarters. Heavy clouds of 
smoke rolled in dark billows over the crest of the mountains, 
obscuring their high altitudes and topmost slopes. Occas- 
ionally a tremendously loud detonation indicated the explos- 
ion of a mine, and between the more expressive signs of the 
impending struggle, I thought I heard the sharp reports of 

small arms. In imagination I saw General men charging 

on the German outpost only to be hurled into eternity by the 
terrific eruption of a concealed mine. Behind them and on 

13 


the high plateau protected by improvised barricades the 
Russian batteries were playing on the fortresses below, whose 
heavy guns were in return combing the high reaches of the 
mountains. Again, in fancy, I saw the towers and walls of the 
German fortresses, pierced by great shot and shell, break and 
fall ;and, witnessed with delight the capture of the outposts 
and the waving of victorious Russian flags. 

Suddenly, I know not why, this exhaltation of spirits 
was transformed into a feeling of the deepest despondency, 
and my soul was overcome by its forebodings. 

From whence come, my Father, these presentiments of 
truth? What is the invisible power which transmits to the 
anxious mind the knowledge of an event yet unborn? 

Early in the day I was convinced the Russian assault 
had failed of its purpose and in my mind I visioned the in- 
glorious return of army. 

I lay upon my rude bed in the barracks wrapped in the 
shadow of this prophetic assurance until I was aroused by a 
woman’s gentle voice. “Come,” she said, “and take your 
luncheon.” 

The face of my visitor was sad, sympathetic and won- 
derfully entrancing. Her voice was as musical as the liquid 
tones of a flute. Through the tiny window of my prison-room 
which framed her head wrapped in a dark shawl, she passed 
a packet to me. Her eyes smiled a welcome and sweetly wished 
a good-bye. Then she disappeared. 

Who was this kind, yet mysterious visitor? The memory 
of her face refreshed me and its kindly expression remains 
with me until this moment. 

I opened the packet. It contained an exceptionally good 
luncheon of both substantial and delicate food, and also a bot- 
tle of milk. I ate without suspicion hearty and with gratiflca- 
tion. I found the bottle of milk closed with a twisted piece 
of paper. I withdrew this improvised stopper and was about 
to cast it to the floor when I observed it was covered in part 
with writing. I opened and smoothed out the little roll, 
and to my amazement I read this note : 

“Dear Sir: I have been told by my father that if your 
plans aid our army you will receive an honorable decoration. 
For the present, you are to remain a prisoner. Do not de- 
spair, but endure your confinement with philosophic courage. 
If it becomes necessary I will try to bring you food and see 
you again. Au revoir, my dear friend. Lucia Monguke.” 

14 


“If your plans aid our army,” I repeated to myself. In 
my heart I felt my plans had miscarried and not even the kindly 
hopes and generous attentions of my beautiful and consider- 
ate visitor could arouse any hope I may have had, or dispel 
the overpowering depression which mastered me. 

I looked through the barred door. The skies over and be- 
yond the mountains presented to my uncertain eyes a strange 
spectacle. Clouds in fantastic forms and of many different hues 
scudded before a wind changing its direction at every moment. 
I saw vivid lightning and dazzling electric displays almost 
immediately followed by crashing peals of thunder. My blood 
was hot with some sudden and strange fever. Rain began to 
fall in great drops and my thirst for water in the twinkling 
of an eye became furious and impelling. I shouted for a 
guard and rushing to the door beat the bars with my fists, 
crying aloud my wish for drink. 

A venomous-looking guard walked up to the bars. His 
face and head were covered with masses of black hair which 
made the glitter of his wolf-like eyes appear dangerous and 
deadly. In reply to my request he thrust his bayonetted gun 
through the bars of the door, and viciously tried to prod me. 
I was enraged at his conduct and yet was helpless. 

The rain was now falling in torrents. I again walked to 
the door and thrusting one hand into the storm caught and 
held the precious drops in the hollow of my hand. My parched 
throat eagerly swallowed them and again I put out my hand 
for more. The villainous guard who had endeavored to wound 
me with a bayonet, unknown to me, stood concealed near the 
door. When, for the second time, I reached for water he 
struck me on the wrist with his rifle and broke my arm. He 
then seized my hand and roughly drew me to the bars endeav- 
oring to do me further injury. Although the pain was intense 
I struggled with this cowardly soldier whose heartless treat- 
ment so disgraced the uniform he wore, broke away and 
retired from the door. As I afterwards learned, the shameless 
creature reported to his superiors that he broke my arm while 
I was attempting to escape from the barracks, a falsehood 
which seriously endangered my life. 

This experience and further neglect confirmed my belief 
that my information, for some reason unknown to me, had 
proved of no service to Russia but was responsible for leading 
the army into a movement which resulted in its defeat. The 
malignant looks of the guards who rushed to my prison when 

15 


I was struggling with the soldier who had broken my arm 
were to me conclusive proof that any sentiment of kindness 
they may have felt for a man who had befrinded their country 
was transformed into a cruel hate for the man they now be- 
lieved to be a spy. Delirious with pain and fever, I left my 
bed and endeavored to cross the floor. I felt myself falling 
into a chasm so vast I madly believed it had no finite dimen- 
sions. When I awoke to consciousness I found myself in the 
camp hospital. 

My new abode instead of being a safe refuge-^a sacred 
place in which I might be able to regain my good health and 
strength became the scene of torture and an almost unbeliev- 
able persecution. My broken arm was rudely dressed. Every 
eye from the beginning was bent upon me in hate. The charge 
that I was a spy impregnated the atrnosphere of the ward. 
My trial and final death were discussed in my presence as if 
the execution of a death sentence had actually taken place 
and I were no longer among the living. Some of the old sol- 
diers, however, discussed my actions in whispers. 

Soldiers wounded and ill were brought into the hospital. 
They were the casualties of the recent battle. A group of doc- 
tors and officers visited these sufferers giving them scientific 
and polite attention. Medals were bestowed upon some 
stretched out on beds of pain, the officers in each instance 
saluting gravely the wounded heroes. These officers passed 
me by as if I were a dog. At dinner, instead of serving me 
a meal, I was thrown pieces of old, dry bread. 

In the ward an old and badly wounded soldier was en- 
deavoring to console his comrades. ‘‘Brothers,” he remarked, 
“you suffer because it is your destiny. Every man has his part 
to play and he must go through with it. Only God knows our 
real motives and our real hearts.” 

I made my way to his cot and gave him a glass of water. 

“Dear brother,” I said with a contrite heart, “you are 
very wise. God will judge. He knows our thoughts when 
no one else knows. Some day, you and the rest will know 
through God’s wisdom, why I came to Russia from my own 
country. Then you will no longer believe me to be a spy.” 

I knelt before a marble statue standing in the center of 
the ward floor. “Dear Jesus,” I prayed, “I beseech you to 
save the lives of the wounded in this hospital and especially 
those who were injured in the late battle. Lessen their pain 
and restore them to good health. My Lord in Heaven, thou 

16 


knowest this battle was lost through no fault of mine, but by 
officers who did not follow correctly the information I im- 
parted. This I swear here at thy feet, 0 blessed Lord and 
Redeemer!” 

I returned to my cot strengthened in my soul. 

Presently General , a number of other officers 

and several surgeons entered the ward. At a sign one of the 
waiting doctors removed the identification and descriptive card 
from my cot and read it aloud in General hearing: 

“Frank Roll, German subject. Broken arm. Injury re- 
ceived while attempting to escape from prison.” 

“That broken arm,” said General with a grin, 

“will not hurt him much longer. This man is a German spy 
and is responsible for the loss of a number of my brave soldiers. 
You need not give the man any medical attention, doctor. 
He will probably be shot to-morrow at one o ’clock in the after- 
noon.” The party then proceeded on its tour of inspection. 

As I lay in my cot I heard the ticking of the clock and 
wondered how many times it would tick after I had passed 
out. Already my body seemed dead. “After all, a firing 
squad does not matter,” I thought. “The clock will tick on.” 

On the cot next to mine was an old soldier. He wore a 
long, heavy beard and his face was quite dark. His eyes 
were piercing and bright. 

“Young man,” he said to me, “can you write Russian?” 

“Yes,” I replied. 

“I have not seen my family for twenty years,” he con- 
tinued. “If you will write to them for me I will give you 
my supper.” 

“I will write for you,” I answered. 

He placed the supper on the little table between our cots. 
“I do not wish any supper. I am not hungry,” I said. 

“Eat, my boy. Smile and be happy to the last moment 
of your life. Moreover, you do not know. Perhaps God will 
send an angel of mercy to protect you to-morrow. Eat your 
supper.” 

We divided his supper in half and each ate his portion. 
Then I wrote his letter. When I had concluded and handed 
it to him he picked up his crutches and slowly made his way 
down the narrow aisle of the ward to the mail bag. His pro- 
gress was slow and whenever he tarried some soldier spoke 
kindly to him. 

One said smilingly, “Nonsense! Really, you are not too 
17 


old to fight/’ But my friend only shook his head. Another 
soldier almost as old and weak arose tremblingly from his cot 
and taking the tired old man by the arm supported him until 
the weary hero had mailed perhaps his last message to loved 
ones. I went to him and leaning on my arm he painfully re- 
turned to his cot. We talked for a time about the morrow, 
and he comforted me with words of cheerful Christian phil- 
osophy. 

Presently my friend began to search his clothes for 
matches with which to light his pipe, and as he did so, parted 
his long and heavy gray beard, behind which I saw a row of 
medals and a scar on his broad chest. He looked up inquir- 
ingly as I passed him my flint and steel with a piece of cotton. 
“Why, you are just like Robinson Crusoe!” he said, and 
laughed. He struck a spark and lighted the cotton which sent 
off clouds of unpleasant smoke. Some of the patients began 
to sneeze, others to cough and in a few moments the ward was 
in an uproar over the pungent fumes. 

The ward doctor entered and took my old friend by the 
arm and violently puffed and shook it. “Don’t put him in 
jail, doctor,” cried a voice. “That old man helped Peter 
the Great defend Sebastopol.” And this was followed by much 
laughing and sneezing. But the brutal physician was in no 
humor for trifling. He jerked the weak old man to his feet 
and shook him back and forth. When he released his grasp 
his victim fell to the floor and pleaded in a weak voice to be 
let alone. 

“I have done nothing to deserve such treatment. Please 
permit me to arise.” 

As the veteran was attempting to stand on his feet the 
physician kicked him in the ribs, called him an old dog and 
told him to return to his cot. When he said and did these 
insults and violences my indignation mastered me and I 
rushed over to the couple, knocked down my friend’s assail- 
ant and soundly kicked him. He quickly reached up, seized 
my broken wrist and pulled me on top of him, trying to bite 
my wounded arm at the same time. The pain was excruciating, 
and I screamed in agony. Nurses separated us, and I observed 
the doctor’s hand were covered with my blood and filled with 
tufts of hair torn from my scalp. The crazed man drew a 
revolver and ordered all of the patients to remain in bed. 
The younger soldiers obeyed him but several of the elderly 
ones, all of whom were decorated with medals, approached 

18 


and protested before several other physicians who had now 
entered the room. One of these decorated men was a cripple. 
He faced the group of doctors in the manner of a lion and 
firmly looking them in the eyes he exclaimed, pointing to a 
picture of Alexander the Great hanging from the wall, ‘‘How 
dare you draw your weapons before that picture, against men 
who have won crosses fighting for him and Russia.” A doctor 
struck him in the chest with his revolver and then thrust it 
against his heart and held it there. Another physician rushed 
around the cripple and showered cruel blows upon his back. 

All of this was more than a brave man could bear. These 
men whose sacred duty it was to patiently care for the wounded 
and the infirm had become cowardly and despicable assailants. 
To my eyes these surgeons and physicians took on the form 
of wild beasts and were no longer entitled to respect. 

“I will spend the last hours of my life,” I thought, “in 
the defense of these brave, but now weakened men.” I took 
one of my friend’s crutches, and crawling on my knees to 
where the cripple stood gallantly berating the men who had 
attacked him, I struck the arm of the doctor who held his 
pistol on the cripple’s chest. Up went his hand in the air as 
the revolver was discharged. I leaped to my feet and was 
about to swing the crutch in another blow when a number of 
soldiers entered and seized me and several other of the excited 
patients. The newcomers were Cossacks and belongd to one of 
the patrols, and they lost no time in locking all of us in a damp 
room beneath the hospital. They threw us some blankets and 
left us sore and miserable. 

That night, although cold and hungry, my old friend and 
I talked over the occurrences of the past day and of the 
events likely to take place on the coming one. I was at last 
resigned to my fate and believed all of my useless struggling 
against destiny was over at last. 

The old soldier gave me his honorable cross and when I 
told him I could not understand his purpose in thus parting 
with his decoration he gravely said: 

“To me it can be of no further use. It is sufficient for 
me to know that I deserved and won it by acts of valor. Take 
and wear it on your breast beneath your shirt. If they are 
determined to shoot you, at the last moment show that cross 
to those who will have to sentence you and order its execution. 
They cannot shoot you as long as a cross of St. George is on 
your breast. It is against the law of the Empire. ’ ’ 

19 


^‘But this is not my own to wear. It was you to whom it 
was given. ’ ’ 

‘^Listen. When you have shown the cross the execution 
must be deferred. The matter will be investigated and, my 
dear boy, it takes time to go to St. Petersburg, look over the 
records and return. In the meantime, who knows what may 
happen ? ’ ’ 

I threw my arms about the neck of this generous soul. I 
embraced him as I would you, my father, and warmly kissed 
him on either cheek. He grasped my hand and both dropped 
on our knees and supplicated our Father in Heaven to save 
me from death on the morrow. 

CHAPTER II 

B efore I continue further with this narrative I wish to 
inform you, my father, that I have minimized my account 
of the atrocious conduct of the Russian physicians, sur- 
geons, soldiers and attendants in the hospital. It was situated 
several miles from a village and both were connected by a 
narrow military road traversing a wild country sparsely 
peopled and but little cultivated. 

On the outskirts of this district were barracks in which 
were lodged at the time of which I write only a few troops, 
including mounted patrols of Cossacks. It was here in front 
of the headquarters that the infamous court-martials were 
held by officers really unfit for military duty and especially 
unfit to try by military procedure a person charged with a 
serious offense. 

I am not now accusing the Russian army or the govern- 
ment but only a small part of it which by reason of its isola- 
tion in this neighborhood and its environment had apparently 
broken away from the restrictions of military discipline and 
become a small autocracy and dictatorship. Most of the sol- 
diers were loyal to the Emperor but in the ranks were some 
men who, at any moment, if a pretext existed, were ready to 
become violent revolutionists. 

The land was scarcely settled, yet among the agriculturists 
were a few energetic and well-to-do farmers, and for such 
a district an unusual number of students, who divided their 
time between the universities and the farms. It may be said 
that all were dreadfully poor. The army had depleted the 
resources of the farms and consumed the products stored in 

20 


the warehouses and many laborers in the section were in a 
condition of semi-starvation. Indeed, the district which owed 
its impoverished state to the demands, services and thefts of 
the army and its dishonest commissary agents, bore no kindly 
feelings for its uniformed visitors. I discovered that several 
incipient revolutions had been put down recently by the mil- 
itary forces of the Czar and that hundreds of them, including 
many students, had been shot. 

I am now confident there were revolutionists in the hos- 
pital during the riot which originated in my particular ward 
against the cold-hearted and aggressive staff of surgeons and 
physicians, and that the rebellion extended to other wards. 

I do not pretend to know what methods were followed 
to acquaint the civilians with a knowledge of the occurrence 
of these clashes, but I do know that they were, even to the 
smallest detail more or less familiar to the people of the entire 
countryside. My personal history from the time I joined the 
Russian army up to the day fixed for the court-martial, which 
was to officially name the hour of my death, was in the mouths 
of the peasants, and strangest fact of all, the knowledge that 
I wore on my person a cross of the Order of St. George was 
known to at least several persons, one of whom acted as a 
member of the court martial. 

We were taken from the cellar of the hospital to the 
open air, in the early hours of the morning and were joined 
by a large number of patients who were accused of precipitat- 
ing incipient riots by rebelling against official authority in dif- 
ferent parts of the hospital on the previous day. The larger 
number of these patients were old soldiers just recovering 
from fresh wounds. They were weak but with few exceptions 
they carried themselves like veterans. Of all of the men J 
was the frailest, the weakest and physically was in the greatest 
pain. I had not recovered of the slow fever which was sapping 
the little vitality left in my wasted body. My broken arm 
continuously ached and with my hand was frightfully swollen. 
I had not swallowed a fair meal for several days and my sunken 
eyes and hollow cheeks told the story of my deprivations. 
My hair and beard were unkempt and covered my head and 
face as a bloody mat. My clothing was torn and soiled and 
I presented a picture of a man already half dead. 

We formed in line and preceded by an officer with a 
drawn sword commenced our march to the village and the 
scene of our trials. We were inclosed in two lines of guards 

21 


and closely followed by others marching to the rear of the 
melancholy column. This sad procession had scarcely reached 
the road, beginning in the woods, when, from all sides of us, 
appeared men, women and children. Some ran out in the road 
and were kicked aside by the guards. Others remained half- 
hidden in the brush and bushes which choked the thick woods. 
The air resounded with their shouting angrily complaining of 
the treatment the wounded had received in the hospital. A 
mother accompanied by her children endeavored to give me 
bread and fruit but they were roughly pushed aside and 
warned. 

Some of the more excited of the people ran in front of 
the column and barred the road. The commanding officer, like 
an infuriated Satan, struck right and left with his heavy sharp 
sword, literally cutting a crimson passage through the mass 
of men, women and children. I never, in the course of my 
short but eventful life, saw any act to equal in brutality this 
altogether unnecessary deed. The dead children and wounded 
mothers and men were pulled into the bushes and the march 
kept on. From the woods came the curses of men and the 
shrieks of women. 

“My Grod!^’ cried one. “See what war is doing to us! 
Down with the monsters.” I bowed by head in shame, for 
I, too, was a soldier. 

“See him there!” shouted a tall man with a full beard; 
“there goes an innocent man who has been made to suffer the 
tortures of hell. Come and we will try to save him from 
death,” and a great crowd surged about the guard and en- 
deavored to pull me from the line. 

“Look at that old soldier!” cried a big woman whose 
head was wrapped in a shawl. Her face was gaunt and thin. 
“Yesterday, in the hospital they kicked and beat the precious 
old man. Look how proudly he walks,” and she threw the 
soldier a kiss. He turned to return the salute and a guard 
slapped his face. 

A young man, a student, stood on the branch of a tree 
and pointing me out cried in a loud voice: “Save that man, 
the one with the big, yellow moustache. He tried to save Rus- 
sia and will be killed to hide the stupidity of bungling officers. 
Brothers, let us rescue him if we can!” and he jumped from 
the tree and lead a rush of men to the column. Quickly, a 
number of patients marching in front of and behind me tried 
to push me out of the line to those who would rescue me, but 

22 


the guards, aided by a patrol of Cossacks, who had come to 
their relief, prodded the already wounded soldiers with their 
lances until they fell back into line. 

But the people continued to shout for me and essayed a 
number of times to effect my release. Finally, an order was 
given to the guards to charge the crowd with fixed bayonets 
while the mounted Cossacks encircled the column. The guards 
pressed the throng of desperate people out of the road into 
the woods. I saw them kill two men and bayonet to death an 
aged woman. 

The country now seemed alive with angry and rebellious 
civilians. They carried all kinds of light farm tools, shovels, 
picks and hoes. The children threw small stones, earth clods 
and dead branches of wood at the Cossacks. The temper of 
these people was growing fiercer. They now appeared to be 
actuated by one motive and that was to take me from the 
bands of my captors. 

How much, if any, of all this was due to the secret in- 
fluence of the man who had given me his cross of St. George 
and who walked near me in the group of prisoners, I cannot 
say, my Father, for I do not know. 

As the cries to capture me continued the captain ordered 
the Cossacks to charge. This command was followed by a 
bloody slaughter. During the progress of this massacre au- 
thorized by an officer of the Russian Army, I was seized by 
two Cossacks and tied to the back of a horse. While the at- 
tention of the peasants was directed to protecting themselves 
as much as possible from the fatal thrusts of lances stream- 
ing with blood, I was taken through the woods at a fast gal- 
lop to the village and from thence to military headquarters. 

My face was scratched by the limbs of trees and bushes, 
and my body torn as we hurriedly rode through the woods. 
My clothes were in strips and I was almost nude. The Cos- 
sacks stopped in front of the patrol barracks and jerked me 
from my mount. I could not stand. Picking me up they tossed 
me, as a carter does a bag of salt, onto the floor of a little 
porch in front of the building, saying to the sergeant in charge : 

“There is a German spy! He tried to ruin Russia and 
then escape. He is to die today.” 

I lay unconscious until I was revived by a military attend- 
ant. Slowly I arose and crept after my guards. Both brain 
and body had succombed and, yet, all of the scenes which took 

23 


place during the next few minutes are indelibly imprinted 
upon my memory. 

A low platform was standing several hundred feet distant 
from the barracks on a level place, cleared of trees and brush. 
This had been the scene of the death of many revolutionists, 
victims of former outbreaks against the military and the civil 
governments. The unobstructed area was surrounded by woods 
and the tangled undergrowth of the forest. I saw the woods 
contained a large number of peasants and other civilians who 
had gathered there to attend the inquiry and to witness other 
events of the day. Some of these had just escaped the Cos- 
sacks and were chanting and sometimes singing in vibrant 
voices old national airs and songs of Russian folk-lore. 

Immediately in front of and around the platform were 
gathered numbers of bold civilians who did not hesitate to voice 
their opinions. A large number of soldiers moved among them 
fraternalizing and talking in an intimate way with those who 
were outspoken in their criticisms of the military. These 
soldiers were of course really scattered through the crowd 
about the platform to prevent and not to invite a riot. Among 
the peasants who talked and threatened the loudest were 
women. Groups of students stood apart talking among them- 
selves, and sarcastically commenting upon the movements of 
several companies of Cossacks who slowly rode around the 
clearing, enclosing the platform and near spectators in a ring 
of glittering lances. 

When I appeared weak and wan standing on the platform 
many exclaimed in pity at my appearance, ‘ ‘ Save him ! Save 
the poor sick man!’’ 

A civilian some distance from the platform, but partly 
hidden from my view by the crowd, shouted in a loud, angry 
voice: ''Do not harm that man until you hear from the Rus- 
sian Court. I myself have written about him. Wait!” at 
which many around him applauded. 

^Several citizens apparently prominent in the civil and 
political affairs of the district had been allowed seats on the 
platform but for what reasons I know not as this of course 
was supposed to be a military tribunal. One of them arose, 
pointed to me and addressed the court-martial. 

"Look at your prisoner, his broken arm, and emaciated 
form! Behold his suffering at this moment — for his face be- 
trays the intense pain he feels ! At least, give him time to rest 
and permit him to be seated.” Two guards then came to my 

24 


assistance and supported me. The citizen went on despite 
warnings from the officers. 

“Is it not possible to defer this inquiry for a couple of 
weeks? You are as merciless as Pilate and the Jews who slew 
the Christ.” 

Hundreds of voices shouted: “Yes! Yes! Down with 
such despotism!” 

An officer arose and approached the citizen, who turned 
quickly to face him. “This is a court-martial. It will do as 
it pleases. You are insolent when you criticize the acts of 
these officers. Leave the platform,” continued the officer; 
“this is no place for political or religious speeches. Are you 
paid by Germany to protect this spy. Leave, at once!” 

The citizen hotly replied: “When you say I am a spy or a 
sympathizer with spies you lie. Now listen! Neither you nor 
any offcer of this court-martial can touch this man. He is 
protected by order of the czar, for he wears on his breast the 
Cross of St. George!” 

Prom the rear of the platform there came a voice com- 
manding the officer to arrest the citizen. Before he could obey 
the latter drew a revolver from beneath his cape and thrust 
it against the officer’s chest. Standing thus he cooly said: “If 
you or any other here issue an order to your soldiers, I will 
fire.” Slowly he backed toward the stairway, nodding to me 
to follow. He beckoned and two guards sprang forward and 
assisted me to the ground, and my protector quickly followed. 

The crowd was crying out to me “Come to us, my 
brother, come!” and many offered me food and did me little 
acts of friendship. Several Cossacks galloped their horses into 
the crowd and endeavored to run down our little party. My 
brave defender fired at a Cossack, but the bullet struck and 
killed the rider’s horse which fell to the ground on top of the 
Cossack’s squirming body. The foot soldiers around me were 
infuriated when they witnessed the unnecessary charge of the 
Cossacks, and shouting “Kill the Tartars!” they fiercely at- 
tacked with bayonets. 

And thus a bloody battle, or rather a massacre commenced 
which continued for several hours. As for myself, I remained 
during its progress hidden in a secluded cluster of trees. An 
old woman with a sad, sweet face found me, bandaged my arm 
and nursed me. The gallant man who befriended me at the 
cost of his life and who precipitated the bloody persecution 

25 


which followed was one of the first to be killed by the ruthless 
Cossacks. Who he was I do not know. 

What I further write of this unwarranted attack upon the 
people, 0 my Father, I gleaned from those who took part in 
it. It is one of the bloodiest pages in the unwritten history of 
the struggles of the Russian peasantry and soldiers against 
cruel and thoughtless military despotism which realizes no 
means of conciliation and which scorns to enforce its decrees 
other than by the whip, the sword and bullet. This melan- 
choly affair had its origin in the impoverishment of the farm- 
ers and their laborers in the sufferings they endured when 
under martial law and subject to the greed of dishonorable 
officials, and their indignation was lashed into a fury and a 
physical outbreak by the stories of mutinies in hospitals and 
prisons, by sick and wounded civilians and old soldiers, goaded 
to desperation by brutal guards and attendants. 

Students repeated these tales of death and oppression to 
the people of the district in eloquent words giving them clear 
pictures of the conditions involving the whole district. It must 
be remembered, that not only was I to be court-martialed an 
this day but that nearly a score of wounded soldiers charged 
with violating hospital and prison discipline were also to have 
a hearing. This latter circumstance was the chief reason which 
induced their former companions in arms to rebel and join the 
revolution. 

During the fighting all of the district surrounding the 
barracks and the prison became a scene of tragical cruelty. 
The woods in which I was hidden, the dense bushes, the home- 
yards and even the homes themselves of nearby farmers were 
invaded. 

Soldier fought soldier during the conflict and the diabolic 
Cossack drove his dripping lance into mother and babe, into 
the breasts of the aged as well as the young. These Tartars 
glutted their vengeance on the battered bodies of the patients 
and never spared the life of a student. The woods and bushes 
covered the bodies of the wounded and slain. Many were de- 
capitated and in the striving to maim and kill, heads were 
separated from their rightful bodies. Cossacks speared in- 
fants and rode for rods with the little ones dangling from the 
points of their lances. The arms of old women were cut away 
and their homes polluted. 

The ground in front of the platform was strewn with the 
dead. Many students were killed there early in the massacre 

26 


and to this point the Cossacks returned after all ^‘resistance” 
was ended and from here they started in the work of collect- 
ing the men and women and children who remained alive and 
unwounded and of driving them into the Cossack prison. 

I have been told the scenes in, and in front of the prison 
were so pitiful the hearts not only of women but of men were 
broken. Children were taken there who never again would 
look upon the faces of their parents now stilled in death. 
Mothers, half -crazed, shrieked for children butchered or lost in 
the woods and bush. They thrust their arms through prison 
bars imploring the guards to permit them to go in search of 
their little ones. The Tartars replied by striking their prayer- 
ful arms with whips. Men and women dropped to their knees 
and asked God to release them from such slavery. When they 
were heard asking heaven to aid them these sufferers were 
taken out and flogged. Often they were pricked with bayonets 
as they returned to the prison. So many women and children 
were arrested that barns and other outbuildings were utilized 
and even these miserable places of detention were crowded. 

The Cossacks were unrelenting. They rode back and forth 
before the prisoners, who plainly saw them from behind the 
open bars, performing tricks of horsemanship and deriding 
their victims. They would drain bottles of vodka and with 
some vulgar remark, uttered because they thought it to be pro- 
voking, hurl the empty receptacles through the bars into the 
prison, where they broke into fragments. The patrols were 
drunk with blood and vodka. 

As I have before asid, no account of this event has ever 
been published. It was particularly an unprovoked slaughter 
and no code, military or otherwise, on the face of the civilized 
earth could have justified it. I do not believe Alexander ever 
heard of it. An order was issued forbidding the people to 
talk about it and all efforts oral or written to make it known 
abroad were summarily suppressed. 

CHAPTER III 

O N the evening of the uprising, Eugenia, who had so kindly 
cared for me in the woods and to whose cleverness and 
watchfulness I owe my life, bade me arise and follow her 
through the thick brush. The sound of conflict had passed 
away and an impressive silence prevailed. We crawled, rather 
than walked, sometimes beneath the bush, sometimes over 


27 


hidden cattle paths, for several miles. The hope of finding 
escape and the great joy I felt in narrowly missing death and 
my release from the inhuman treatment of my captors stimu- 
lated me to make every physical exertion. 

Really, the truth of my old soldier friend’s philosophy 
was being realized, for Heaven had sent to my aid an angel 
of mercy in the person of my fearless and self-sacrificing 
guide. 

Several times I fainted on the way from sheer exhaustion 
but Eugenia revived and encouraged me to keep on. This 
frail woman whose life had been one of unbroken depriva- 
tion and suffering possessed a heart of gold and a sublime 
faith in the goodness of the Creator. Hunger and want of 
many kinds — indeed, the most abject poverty, had spiritual- 
ized her nature and given her a peculiarly truthful insight 
of human nature and an endless sympathy with all who were 
unfortunate. 

In a cleft in the rocks on the slope of a hill we reached 
her home, half-cave, half-hut. The woods provided her with 
fuel and natural springs with water. She had never known 
a more commodious, a better abode. When she could, she 
worked during the harvests and, at other times, was em- 
ployed to do the drudgery of small farms. She cut grasses 
and wild weeds from the growing fields — washed the cattle 
and cleaned the manure from their stables and sheds and did 
not hesitate to perform any work which enabled her to live 
free of suffering. To her, life meant work, and such work 
as would debase most women. It elevated Eugenia. At 
seventy years of age her soul was yet pure. Her calm eyes 
reflected her holy thoughts and deeds of love and humble 
charity. Blessed woman ! I have ever prayed for thee. When 
thou art summoned thou wilt face thy God unashamed and 
with unspeakable joy. 

Eugenia told me that under no circumstances was I to 
leave the hut save during the darkest hours of the darkest 
nights. No one was to see me for, in that neighborhood, scarce- 
ly any one was to be trusted. Revolutionists of today became 
the secret emissaries of the army and government tomorrow. 
I must remain in concealment and only leave the hut to 
strengthen my muscles for the long journey I hoped to make in 
the future. I obeyed her in everything. Her knowledge of the 
healing and tonic qualities of certain herbs was wonderful. 
These she gathered and made into teas and lotions which, with 

28 


food, she left within my reach each day. Then she would leave 
me alone and go abroad to perform her menial duties* 

I was aroused from a dream one afternoon about a fort- 
night after I had gone to Eugenia’s home by the low whistle 
of a man in uniform standing in the hut. I opened my eyes, 
shuddered and drew the blanket over my face. ‘‘It is over,” I 
thought. ‘ ‘ Poor Eugenia ! ’ ’ 

“Be not alarmed,” the visitor said in gruff tones. “Thou 
art safe in Eugenia’s home. Where is she?” 

“She has gone to work, I know not where,” I answered, 
and sat up on my couch. 

“I thought so,” he went on. “Now, that I see your face 
I remember you, my brother. Well, they did not shoot you, 
of that I am glad. Eugenia ! Did you ever hear of such a 
woman? You will please give her these two rubles and say that 
Alexis left them. I will return tomorrow night, God willing,” 
and he , turned to go. 

“Stop, will you swear ” 

“I swear by the mother of Christ I will say nothing to 
harm you,” and he touched my head with his heavy hand as 
he walked away. 

When I told Eugenia she was not disturbed. 

“Alexis will say nothing, master.” she replied in her 
calm way. 

“Tell me something of him, please?” I asked in my 
anxiety. 

“Really there is little. He had a fever when a young 
man and I nursed him. When he recovered we were to have 
been married but the army took him. Neither he nor I have 
married. Perhaps it is better so. For forty years we have 
been friends. Isn’t that beautiful?” 

“Wonderful,” I agreed. 

“Alexis has known you were here from the second day,” 
she continued. 

“Indeed! Under whom does your friend serve?” 

“He is now at the headquarters of General and 

and believe me, master, Alexis did not come here for nothing. 
He has taken a risk and I believe has something to tell. Be pa- 
tient. Tomorrow night, we may know.” 

Eugenia left as usual the next morning. Nothing appar- 
ently excited the placid and even temperament of this noble 
and sensible woman. As usual my food was prepared. I had 
stopped the use of medicines and lotions and had recovered 

29 


much of my lost strength. Eugenia forgot nothing and in her 
gentle way bade me good-bye. 

That day was very long — every minute an hour. I thought 
the sun would never set. My imagination conjured up all kinds 
of possible events affecting my future, yet, through all my 
fancies I preserved my presence of mind and self-possession. 
I had learned to worry as little as possible and to depreciate 
the seriousness of my condition rather than to exaggerate it. 
Still, the memories of the past would assert themselves and I 
would shudder and try to banish them to a distance. 

Eugenia came and prepared our modest supper. For some- 
time we had drank no tea. Tonight the samovar was used and 
the brew was so enjoyable I insisted upon having my bowl re- 
filled. My hostess showed no excitement and referred to the 
coming of Alexis as a common event ‘‘although,’’ she added, 
“it may be important.” After supper the weary woman re- 
tired and her heavy breathing soon told me she was asleep. 
Not so I. For hours I tossed in my bed. Would Alexis never 
come? 

I heard the frail door open and close and dimly saw 
the figure of a man. 

“It is I — Alexis,” he said. 

“Welcome, friend!” replied Eugenia. “You will find a 
stool if you look.” 

Alexis seated, prepared to light his pipe. As he was about 
to strike a match Eugenia said in a low voice, “Beware.” 

“It will not matter,” Alexis said and lighted his pipe. I 
saw his rugged face in the flare of the match. 

“What do you mean?” I impatiently asked. “Does it not 
mean something to make my presence known?” 

‘ ‘ Right you are, master. It means a commission as captain 
in the Czar’s grenadiers,” he chuckled and vigorously puffed. 

“Thanks, blessed Lord!” exclaimed Eugenia softly clap- 
ping her palms. 

My interest was intense. In my perplexity I said, “For 
God’s sake. Brother, speak no longer in riddles. I will be 
quiet and patient. I can scarcely breathe through hope and 
fear. ’ ’ 

“Be calm and I will go as straight to the mark as a bul- 
let,” and Alexis put aside his enormous pipe, glowing in the 
darkness of the room. 

“Eugenia, of course, has told you I am attached to the 
bodyguard of General at headquarters.” 


30 


“Yes! Yes!” I answered. 

“Did she say I was a private?” 

“Yes.” 

“That was right. Now it is wrong. Yesterday I was a 
private. Today I am a corporal.” 

“Thanks again and again, blessed Lord!” said Eugenia 
religiously. 

“And no thanks, Eugenia, for General ?” 

“Fie, Fie, my friend! I have thanked him already.” 

“Pray come to the point. Brother,” I implored. 

“I have, master. To be made a corporal is an important 
point in the career of a soldier. But I will proceed as you 
wish. I have much to tell but for the present let this satisfy 
you. It so happened, because ears are everywhere at head- 
quarters, you see IVe two myself, I heard that the disaster 
following the assault of our army upon the German fortifica- 
tions was brought about by an independent order on the part 
of General . He was instructed by General to fol- 

low your plans to the letter, master, but he did not and led his 
men into a deadly trap on the slope of a mountain. The mines 
finished most of them. This officer conspired with his subor- 
dinates to put the blame on your drawings and every effort 
has been made to kill you to prevent the truth from getting to 

General who has ears as well as I, but which have 

been filled with lies. Well, all of this came out right after the 

revolution and when General charged the guilty with 

their atrocious crime, the chief one. General confessed 

the truth. He wrote it all out on a sheet of paper and signed it 
in the presence of witnesses. Then he walked to the woods near 
headquarters and blew out his brains. The other rascals are 
to be court-martialled and only the devil knows what is to 
become of such scoundrels. There, there, my master do not 
weep and Eugenia, too ? Bah, shut up ! 

“Well, the General was so mad at the cowardly 

conduct of his officers he did nothing but swear for hours. He 
said the only man he knew that he could trust was the German, 
Frank Roll, and that all his staff were liars and traitors. He 
thought you were killed during the revolution and has had 
patrols searching and hunting for you dead or alive. A re- 
ward of 5,000 rubles has been offered for any information that 
will lead positively to your fate and whereabouts. You will 
not mind, my master, if that reward is paid to Eugenia?” 

“No, a thousand times no, my dear Alexis — she is welcome 

31 


to my life if she wishes it/’ I said in truth and earnestness. 
“But proceed, brother, my heart is overwhelmed with grati- 
tude and joy. It is all so marvelous, so like the good God, 
himself ! ’ ’ 

Eugenia arose from her bed, lighted a tiny lamp and 
looked around her narrow, meagre home. Then she sat down 
on a stool, folded her hands, and sadly prayed as the tears 
stole down her faded cheeks. “Thanks again and again, blessed 
Lord ! ’ ’ she faintly whispered. 

“But when General heard you had been sent 

to prison where your arm was broken and where you were 
nearly killed for protecting the lives of his old soldiers he 
vowed he would have every one responsible sent to Siberia. I 
tell you those hospital doctors have stirred up a row that will 
be heard in St. Petersburg.” 

“Eugenia who had seen you under guard recognized you 
in the woods and brought you here and the next day I heard 

of it. When General discovered the conspiracy 

formed against you and I learned that he was seeking you I 
made up by mind when you were well and strong again to get 
that reward for Eugenia. And so, not a great many hours ago, 
I told my General, and back there in the woods within a good 
rifle shot is a squad of soldiers of which, my master, I am, by 

the grace of General , the corporal. 1 have orders to 

take you and Eugenia as soon as the day breaks to headquar- 
ters where, in due time, you will be received by our com- 
mander.” 

0, Father, was ever anything more beautiful? Was a man 
and his friends ever rewarded in a more becoming and welcome 
way? I think not. I really believe had it not been for the 
great happiness of the corporal and his old sweetheart who con- 
trolled their feelings in the bravest way, I might have gone 
delirious, so happy, so very happy was I. 

You may believe there was no sleep the rest of the night 
in Eugenia’s little home. Alexis, soon after telling the good 
news joined his companions in the fores^ Before leaving he 
shook my hand and paid me one of the highest and most ap- 
preciated compliments I have ever received. “My master,” 
he said, “when you are a captain of grenadiers I will be more 
than pleased, the General willing, to serve under you. ’ ’ There 
was a man for you! 

General had, of course, not arisen when we 

reached headquarters. No one of the guard recognized me or 

32 


knew Eugenia. Corporal Alexis ushered us into a private 
apartment and later on we were served with a wholesome and 
generous breakfast. They would have thought that Eugenia 
was accustomed to such surroundings she was so self-pos- 
sessed and undisturbed. 

The faith and the love of a woman are her shield and 
weapons. I thank the Greater of all things that my benefac- 
tress never again suffered the pangs of poverty and that she 
was provided for permanently and generously. Her miserable 
days were ended. 

After breakfast I was taken before General 

He greeted me cordially, and pleasantly referred to my re- 
covery. He especially spoke of Eugenia in terms of praise 
and of Alexis he said, ‘‘a wise and trustworthy man.” We 
then adjourned to his private apartments and I observed that 
the guards on duty here were under the command of my new 
friend, the corporal. All gravely saluted as we passed into 
an inner apartment. 

For hours we conversed on my experiences. General 
had by plans of the German fortifications and point- 
ed out to me the tremendous mistake that had been made, 
contrary to the directions of the drawing. The fatal error 
was, of course, not intended, yet. was from a military point 
of view, entirely inexcusable. I asked my superior where was 
the commanding officer who rode with me to the ford. 

“He was,” replied my superior, “one of the first of my 

officers to perish through the stupidity of General 

and his death was deplorable. He believed in you. Monsieur 
Roll, and so did many of his men, and you are largely in- 
debted to them for your presence here. I shall not go further 
into details concerning the unfortunate affair. You have been 
entirely exonerated and, personally I offer you an apology for 
the humiliating and undeserved treatment you have undergone. 
Within a few days you will receive your commission as a cap- 
tain of grenadiers and will be attached to my staff. I desire 
that Russia shall profit by your knowledge of military engin- 
eering and of the science of war. ” 

I arose and bowed. 

Then followed a minute account of the uprisings in the 
hospital as I had witnessed them and my views of the acts 
which directly led up to these disorders. I gave my general 
exact word-pictures of the brave old soldiers who refused to 

33 


be shamed and beaten into an unjust and servile subjection. 
My listener grew furious and stamped his foot in rage. 

“These fiends, as treacherous as they are cowardly, will 
be made to pay in full even if I am forced to appeal to the 
Czar ! The soldiers of Russia are not clods to be ground into 
powder under the heels of arrogance and conspiracy; Their 
bodies are a part of Russia and wounded and bleeding they 
look to it for tender care and protection. Look you Monsieur 
Roll 1 I am a soldier of the Empire. I love my Czar and my 
life belongs to the fiag. Nevertheless, I wish to say in words 
what I now think. The worst of the revolutionists engaged in 
the recent outbreak is a better Russian than the least of the 
dastards who treated my old soldiers so inhumanly in that 
hospital. The instigators of the late uprising will be banished, 
secretly, mind you. and without shaming the Czar. I have said 
enough now on that score.” 

The bluff and appreciative old soldier had been hurt 
deeply and did not conceal his feelings which he subsequently 
put into action. With few exceptions the medical and sur- 
gical staff of the hospital were deprived of rank and honors 
and sent to Siberia to join the several officers who had con- 
spired to ruin my good name and then to murder me. 

Before separating I begged to ask a favor. “It is 
granted,” quickly replied my general. 

I drew the cross of St. George from beneath my battered 
coat and with it the address of the family of my noble soldier 

friend. General read the inscription. “The soldier 

to whom this was given served in my command. It he be alive 
he shall be found and this restored to him, and if he be dead, 
I promsie you. Monsieur Roll, on the honor of a soldier this 
cross shall be safely delivered to his family.” 

I remained attached to the staff of General 

until the close of the war. I have reasons for believing that 
he learned to confide in me the most important of military 
secrets and that I won his personal respect. I made few 
friends among my fellow officers. Perhaps, I am too diffident 
in the presence of Russian nobility or perhaps I sensed that 
impalpable barrier which hangs like a veil of gossamer be- 
tween a German and a Russian. I shall never see the day 
when the citizenship of these two powers will be in part or 
in whole in perfect and sincere accord. Although, I have been 
a Russian soldier and loyal subject, Russians of my own class 

34 


have never permitted me to forget I am an alien of German 
parentage and as for myself, I have never cared to push aside 
the barrier which has arisen between us as a consequence. 

CHAPTER IV 

A t the termination of hostilities, I expressed a desire to re- 
tire from the army and return to civil life. General 

secured for me an indefinite furlough and some 

valuable letters of introduction to persons conspicuous in both 
Polish and Russian aristocratic and financial circles. 

Among those to whom I bore letters was M. Tchorjevsky, 
an extensive landowner, a former Polish general and member 
of the high court of Kiev. My love of the country and agri- 

cultaral pursuits led me to present General ’s letter 

to M. Tchorjevsky. 

My reception by this gentleman was both cordial and 
friendly. Subsequently, I received a very kind invitation from 
him to visit his home, some distance from Kiev. I gladly 
accepted this courtesy and forthwith proceeded by train from 
that city to a small railway station. Here I alighted to find 
awaiting me a private carriage in which I was swiftly driven 
to M. Tchorjevsky ’s stately home, only a few miles distant. 

The lawns, gardens and woods immediately surrounding 
the Tchorjevsky castle are enclosed within a stone fence. We 
entered through a heavy ornate gate and proceeded over a 
broad, smooth drive winding through the woods until we 
reached its beautifully cultivated gardens, and thence directly 
to the noble mansion. In the woods, I glimpsed beautiful 
vistas and scenes of the country far beyond. Marble, bronze 
and iron forms simulating classic figures, deer, hounds, storks 
and other natural objects stood half-concealed beneath the 
foliage of the trees of the woods and in the shade of orna- 
mental plants. The garden was planned after the French style 
and was beautiful with fountains composed of mythological 
and other heroic figures. An aviary imprisoned a collection 
of rare and foreign birds and stood on the edge of the woods. 
A number of well-bred hounds barked a kindly welcome and 
raced before and after the carriage from the great portal 
to the castle. As we approached the huge house I heard the 
soft tones of an organ accompanying the singing of a familiar 
song. The music bewitched me, as it softly issued, from behind 

35 


the deep stone walls through narrow windows, to the sunshine 
and glorious air. 

We alighted from the carriage and the dogs came forward 
and lowered their heads for a friendly greeting. The doors 
of the castle opened, dimly disclosing the great hall. I was 
impressed with a sense of the presence of kindliness and hos- 
pitality. My mind reverted to the past and I beheld a vision 
of my ancestral home, surrounded, as was this stately home, 
with culture and picturesqueness. The palace of my fore- 
fathers for a moment stood before me in all of its massive 
medieval grandeur and over it I vaguely saw hovering in mid- 
air the cross of the crusaders. 

I was awakened from my dream by a voice calling in 
cheery tones — “Come, dear Roll! you are just in time for din- 
ner — ” and there on the threshold stood my friend and host 
M. Tchorjevsky. 

Throwing his arm about by shoulders M. Tchorjevsky slow- 
ly conducted me into the great hall of the castle — a noble and 
magnificently decorated apartment. At the far end was a wide 
fire-place on the fioor of which, although, without, flowers 
bloomed in warm sunshine, a dim fire was burning. The heavy 
carved stone mantle-piece supported small bronze figures de- 
picting scenes of the chase, the pursuit, the fight, the death. 
Turkish swords, an Arabian rifle, a brace of pistols and a 
curious star, constructed of East Indian war-knives, were 
affixed to the wall overhead. 

The ceiling composed of stone was crossed and recrossed 
at intervals by huge beams of oak, black with use and age. 
These formed hollow squares covered with plaster and frescoes. 
From the timbers on either side of the hall depended small 
silver lamps some of which were Grecian and all of which were 
of elaborated and unique design and ornamentation. From the 
center of the ceiling, suspended by silver chains, swung a huge 
lamp, encircled with a broad -silver band studded with glisten- 
ing stones. 

On the polished oaken floor were spread Turkish and 
Persian rugs and several white bear skins. The mural decora- 
tions were enhanced by hanging tapestries, armor of various 
periods, sketches in water colors of peaceful and bucolic scenes 
and family portraits. 

The furniture was ornate and much of it was of French 
manufacture, but the most striking of these articles 

36 


were 


roughly carved, of mammoth size and made of mahogany and 
rosewood beautifully polished. 

My host seated me on a settee, the wooden back of which 
was inlaid in queer devices with mother-of-pearl. A white 
bear rug was at my feet. He pulled a silken cord and before 
the melodious echo of a bell had ended a servant with humble 
face and wearing long snow-white hair appeared and stood be- 
fore his master. 

“Fetch us something to drink,” commanded M. Tchor- 
jevsky. The servant presently brought a small table on which 
he placed a decanter of liquor and glasses. While we were 
drinking, the sound of a sweetly-toned bell floated through the 
hall. It was calling us to dinner. As we arose there entered 
the room a bewildering vision of maidenly grace, beauty and 
alluring charm in the person of Marie Tchorjevsky, the daugh- 
ter of my host. She ran to her father, threw her arms about 
his neck and kissed him. 

“Dinner is ready. Papa,” she said, disengaging herself 
from his arms and then, without even a glance in my direction, 
she tripped away leading us to the dining hall. There I met 
quite a large company including a number of young lady stu- 
dents who were college acquaintances of Marie. 

It will not be necessary for me, my dear Father, to describe 
to you the elegance and the bounteous hospitality of this dinner, 
for you yourself have been host to many similar ones. It was 
a function typical in every way of the private home-entertain- 
ments of our nobility. Although rich and splendid in its set- 
ting of costly plate, cut glass, fine brocade, linen and antique 
furniture, the speech and deportment of all were simple and 
without the slightest ostentation. The servants, richly garbed 
in their national dress and bearing trays loaded with viands 
of many kinds and rare wines, spread the table and served 
the guests. Beautiful candelabra bearing painted burning 
candles illuminated the hall and brightened the happy, con- 
tented faces of the diners. 

You, my dear Father, are familiar with all of this, but you 
cannot imagine the perfect loveliness of Marie Tchorjevsky, 
or the passionate yearning of my heart to possess her. Never 
before had I seen a woman whose presence filled me with 
delight and irresistible longing or whose voice and charming 
manner so thrilled me. The moments lived at that dinner 
were glimpses of a paradise I swiftly created in my own sub- 
jected mind. 


37 


After dinner, we entered the music room and here, much 
to my astonishment and deep mystification, Marie sang in clear 
and ringing notes a Polish national song, proscribed by the 
Russian government. I observed her father and some of his 
guests nodding their heads in silent yet enthusiastic approval 
from time to time during the progress of the song. I need not 
say this surprised me very much. At last, and all too clearly 
for me, the ladies retired. The lights grew rim and a great joy 
to ever live, however, in my memory, had departed. 

M. Tchorjevsky remained until an early hour discussing 
my knowledge of business methods and of practical agricul- 
ture and other economic problems. At the conclusion of our 
conversation I was offered by him, at a handsome salary, the 
position of confidential business agent. This I accepted at 
once. Several weeks later I took up my duties on the Tchor- 
jevsky estate, where I remain to address to you these memoirs. 

CHAPTER y 

I DID not attempt to restrain my love for Marie Tchorjevsky. 
I could not have done so had I wished to have checked 
the impulse. In her, I had met my ideal, the only woman 
I had ever desired to wed. Every time I saw and talked to 
her she disclosed some new quality of mind or speech or form 
or manner to further enthrall me. I was madly in love. 

And so, one day, I determined to propose to Miss Tchor- 
jevsky and to end the doubt' and fear which at times controlled 
me. I saw her, riding her favorite horse, on a hunting trip 
and contrived to join her. While, for a moment, we were alone, 
I told her of my love and asked for her hand in marriage. 

For a moment I thought I read ‘^yes’’ in her blushing 
face, but withdrawing her hand she turned away, saying, ‘ Wou 
must go to papa.” 

I lost no time in seeing M. Tchorjevsky and stating my 
case. 

‘‘Why, Roll, my dear fellow,” he said, “Marie's hand is 
pledged. She is to marry Captain Tchorjevsky, a distant 
cousin. You are too late.” 

I turned away stunned. The day grew dark, pitiless and 
hopeless. 

“Marie gone forever? No! it is impossible,” I said to 
myself. I vowed no other man should possess this jewel, the 
very thought of whom filled my soul with ecstaey. I would 

38 


make another effort, a supreme effort, to win and to have her. 
Impatiently, I awaited an opportunity to see and to tell her of 
the true state of my mind and heart. Finally it came. 

I found Marie in the garden seated on a bench near the 
statue of a beautiful Greek god. I approached and, dropping 
on my knees, told her of my undying affection and of my hope 
that she would, despite all apparent obstacles, become my wife. 
She slowly arose and gave me her hand. 

“No! No! It cannot be, dear Roll. I belong to another.” 

She turned away, passed around the sparkling fountains 
and walked slowly toward the castle. 

I attended Marie’s marriage. After the ceremony I was 
permitted to kiss her hand, and wish her much joy. 

0, my Father, the agony of that moment! Never can I 
describe the tumult in my soul, as I left the church and in a 
dejected mood walked through the woods to the edge of a 
deep canyon. My brain was whirling and the blood in my 
veins seemed frozen. My heart ached and a great weight 
pressed upon me. I climbed to the pinnacle of a great rock 
on the edge of a jagged cliff. Behind me was the castle filled 
with the gaiety and the merrymaking of those who had gath- 
ered there to witness the nuptials of my lost darling. Before me 
was a yawning chasm and as I gazed into its depths I fancied 
I saw the spirit of Marie floating in the air. Now she advanced 
and then receded, her face wearing an angelic, yet sad expres- 
sion. I extended my arms toward the apparition. 

“Marie, my own Marie,” I hoarsely shouted and then 
pitched forward and downward to the rocky bed of the abyss. 

For two days, I lay there crushed in spirit and body, bleed- 
ing and bruised. How I survived I knovr not. On the third 
day, two shepherds found me and after feeding me with bread 
and fruit, taken from the rude bags, they carried me to my 
lodgings on the Tchorjevsky estate. 

The castle yet resounded with the cheerful noise of happy 
wedding guests. I listened until a purpose to again see the 
bride, my lost Marie, mastered me. I carefuly made my toilet 
and, assisted by a servant, proceeded to the scene of the 
festivities. 

When I entered the great hall guests approached to ask 
me concerning my abrupt and prolonged absence from the cele- 
bration and expressed their astonishment at my pale face and 
weary-worn appearance. Presently, M. Tchorjevsky came up 
and to him I said affairs of business had kept me away. 


39 


“Good boy!’’ he heartily exclaimed, slapping me on the 
shoulder, “I will increase your salary for such faithful dili- 
gence,” he laughingly added as he warmly grasped my hand. 
“But, it is too bad that you did not see my daughter and son- 
in-law before their departure.” 

“Have they gone?” I faltered. 

“Yes,” he responded in a sad tone. “My children have 
started on their honeymoon. Yet, this is no time for idle 
regrets. Come! We will drink to their good health and wish 
them a happy visit to St. Petersburg.” 

He filled two golden cups with cognac and gave me one 
which I accepted. As 1 raised the rich goblet to my lips the 
great room grew dark and the cup fell from my hands. I 
was speechless and could make no reply to the rapid questions 
asked me. My broken heart was dumb. I could no longer 
control my feelings as the hot tears rolled down my cheeks 
and with shattered spirit and bowed head I staggered like a 
drunken man out of the room. 

These lines are a true recital of my life, so far, on M. 
Tchorjevsky ’s estate< I have concluded to remain here and 
prosecute my work. 

LIFE IN A KUSSIAN PALACE 
CHAPTER I 

After the marriage of Marie she and her husband took 
up their residence in the castle of M. Tchorjevsky, and Frank 
Roll continued in his employ. There was an almost infinite 
amount and a great variety of work to superintend. He was 
a progressive agriculturist and economist far ahead of and 
broader in his methods than the majority of Russian farmers 
and great land owners. His early life had been spent on a 
country estate. He had read much of foreign methods and 
business systems and was well versed in the history of the 
methods and systems by which other nations, especially the 
Americans, had successfully solved great land and perplexing 
labor problems. 

Although much given to theorizing, Frank Roll was a prac- 
tical man who did things and this was evidenced in the abun- 
dant crops harvested under his management, in the increased 
acreage planted to cereals, orchards, forage and other products, 

40 


in the reclamation of lands, hitherto, regarded as waste, and 
in the growing value of the great property. 

It was an immense estate possessed of many different 
values, for it required six days of progressive daylight-riding 
at a fast pace, to encircle this vast private domain. Within 
its circumference could be found, in an undeveloped and partly 
cultured condition, the abund^t resources of an enormously 
wealthy principality. To direct and co-ordinate into an har- 
monious working body this complex group of interests was no 
small task. It required ability bordering on genius, exact 
knowledge of the arts and sciences pertaining to agriculture, 
tremendous energy and the ennobling trait of patience, sup- 
ported by a deep, yet subtle knowledge of natural laws. 

During the period of his creative work as land manager 
for M. Tchorjevsky, Roll saw but very little of his employer’s 
family. He knew that an heir had been born to the Tchor- 
jevskys, and had every reason for believing both Marie and her 
husband were blissfully happy. 

Down in his heart his love for Captain Tchorjevsky ’s wife, 
or rather for the woman he had known as Marie Tchorjevsky, 
still lived but as embers, not as gleaming coals of fire. Natures 
such as Frank Aoll’s are as deep as the sea and like the under 
steady currents of a sometimes torrential river, feelings buried 
beneath the surface of outward repression ever live to have 
their play and being. For this reason, true gentlman that he 
was. Roll refrained as much as possible from meeting and talk- 
ing with Marie. One afternoon Captain Tchorjevsky called on 
Roll in the latter’s office. 

“Come,” he said, “and join us in a hunt. It will rest 
you. Even hermits are gay, at times, we are told. Come! 
the ride will do you good.” And Roll, much against his real 
inclinations, accepted the invitation. 

The huntsmen lunched in the woods. Among Captain 
Tchorjevsky ’s guests were several Russian officers, one of whom 
was a rejected suitor of Marie. He was seated near his host. 
All were drinking wine when the Captain, with an exclamation 
of pain, arose from his chair and said that he was suffering 
intensely. The improvised table was quickly cleared and he 
was placed upon it. In a few moments, without speaking again 
he died. The officer who had once sought to win the love of 
Marie Tchorjevsky appeared solicitous and then shocked. He 
calmly closed the dead man’s eyes. 

The mortal remains of the dead gentleman were taken to 

41 


the hospital in the village. ‘^He has died of poison/^ was 
said. And thus a tragical mystery was born. 

Captain Tchorjevsky was buried in the crypt beneath the 
chapel of the Tchorjevskys. 

The knowledge of Marie ’s sudden affliction and widowhood 
struck Frank Roll as a heavy blow. He was stunned for several 
days, and he slowly and pensively walked about as a man in 
a dream. Very much, his mental condition was the same as 
that which he had endured when he realized the soldiers of 

General , detached apparently to shoot him to death, 

had sent their bullets whizzing and leaf-cutting through the 
top of a tree. Slowly the suppressed love in his heart took fire 
again and burst into a flame. Hope stripped from his future 
the sombre clouds which had enfolded it. His past sufferings 
and sorrows vanished and were only remembered as unimport- 
ant things. The one great impelling thing to Frank Roll was 
the fact that Marie was free, earlier or later, to marry again. 

How beautiful became the world! The tears and regrets 
which accompany an unrequited passion were buried beneath 
masses of gorgeous, odorous verdure and flowers. How much 
more interesting appeared his work and with what avidity did 
he now attack old problems! Never had the birds sang so 
sweetly, nor ever had the skies been fairer! “Marie shall yet 
be my wife, ’ ’ he almost blithely said. A glorious thought upon 
which this man with a starving soul ate his fill. 

CHAPTER II 

Subsequent to the sudden death of Captain Tchorjevsky, 
his widow was plunged into grief, more acute by reason 
of the mysterious and baffling cause of the fatality. Her 
husband was a kindly gentleman, a devoted father and husband 
and a good friend. If he had enemies, and what man of posi- 
tion and influence at that time in Russia had none? — such 
enemies were unkown. 

The physicians, after a post-mortem, reported that Captain 
Tchorjevsky had been fatally poisoned. 

By whom? 

]\Iarie could not understand why the report of the cause 
of her husband’s death should be perpetuated. She and other 
members of the Tchorjevsky family endeavored to suppress and 
to quiet the knowledge of the alleged discovery of the poison- 
ing by the physicians. The incident was depressing and humil- 

42 


iating and after a thorough investigation was prosecuted which 
resulted in no definite information, the family desired that the 
secret be buried and forgotten. 

But the rumor would not remain stilled. It was revived 
at intervals and too frequently, for her peace of mind, Marie 
heard the name of Frank Roll connected with her husband’s 
death. She entirely failed to recognize a particle of justice 
in this suspicion. 

Roll had become an heroic figure in the eyes of Madam 
Tchorjevsky. His constant love, concealed during the life of 
her husband by a cold but respectful bearing, and an enforced 
isolation, was apparent and the source to her, of great pride. 
It was true Roll was one of the party on that fatal hunt but 
there were others — including Russian officers, one of whom 
she detested, and civilian guests. 

What was the purpose and the object to be obtained in 
linking the name of Frank Roll with such a tragedy? Madam 
Tchorjevsky could not solve the riddle. She was inexpressibly 
pained and never refrained from defending the good name of 
her lover. 

When Frank Roll first heard the story affecting his good 
name he smiled. ‘‘Am I ever,” he thought, “to be an object 
of distrust and suspicion, perhaps the victim to intrigue and 
conspiracy?” He recalled his frightful army life and the ter- 
rific dangers he had passed through and smiled again. He was 
so supremely happy in the belief that someday he could claim 
Marie as his bride, his reported participation in her husband’s 
death appeared to him grotesque and preposterous. “It has 
no support and will fall into fragments of its own weight.” 
But it did not. In many odious ways and by diverse and cir- 
cuitous routes it went to his ears. “If this ridiculous story is 
part of a fixed purpose or plan,” he would say, “those who 
conspire are children. The idea of thus injuring me is puerile.” 
The slander fattening, possibly upon the credulity of ignorant 
listeners, tarried. It would not be downed and periodically 
manifested itself, clinging to Roll ’s name with tentacles of steel. 

The suspicion in the mouths of some became a part of the 
Tchorjevsky family history. 

“The husband of Madam Tchorjevsky was poisoned to 
death by Frank Roll ! ’ ’ 

“But why? For what reason? It is absurd. You see M. 
Tchorjevsky remains his good friend.” 

“All the same. Roll poisoned the man. The cause? Well, 

43 


I do not know. Perhaps, he was covetous,” and with a shrug 
of his shoulders, himself the user of a poisoned dart, the slan- 
derer walks away. 

The iteration and reiteration of this tale of jealousy and 
vengeance pursued the German for a number of years with the 
tenacity displayed by an American Indian when trailing an 
escaped prisoner. It began to visibly tell upon its victim. He 
would not demean himself so low as to appeal to M. Tchor- 
jevsky or his daughter. Could it be possible they were await- 
ing the occurrence of events by which this horror was to be 
proved or to be blown into atoms of nothingness ? Impossible, 
if they believed or even considered it, they surely would speak. 
Yet both remained silent. His dumb fight against inuendo 
and the machinations of a cowardly and insiduous foe was 
breaking the stout heart of Frank Roll who was afraid of no 
man who attacked in the open. Pride and a fantastic con- 
ception of personal honor closed his lips and his hope of a 
marriage with Marie Tchorjevsky appeared to him, after the 
lapse of time, as distant as the stars he watched in lonely vigil. 

Closer than ever he kept to his bachelor quarters when 
the day’s work was done. Assiduously he pursued his studies, 
although his hours for speculation and self-contemplation were 
sadly embittered. The candles in his study were seen often 
aglow at a late hour of the night. His hair became streaked 
with gray and his eyes furtive and red with much reading. 
He was seen, sometimes, when he thought himself unobserved, 
by M. Tchorjevsky, who remarked the great change in the per- 
sonal appearance of his agent. The old Polish nobleman would 
note, to his astonishment, the strange aloofness of Roll. Also, 
he had seen this moody man gesticulating and talking in whis- 
pers as if he were conversing with invisible yet sensient spirits. 
On such occasions, he keenly eyed his superintendent and at- 
tempted to fathom to his satisfaction such peculiar conduct. 

CHAPTER HI 

M. Tchorjevsky was a member of one of the oldest fam- 
ilies in Poland. His line on the male side dated from the 
second crusade. Birth and station were to those who pos- 
sessed them and sought his friendship the passwords which 
unlocked the doors of his esteem and generous consideration. 
In Warsaw, he was ever treated with distinguished receptions 
by the Polish nobility on the occasions of his visits. His 


44 


record as a fighting loyalist and revolutionist was famous. 
In Russia, his position was assured and in times of peace he 
held the confidence of the government. As a matter of fact, 
on his campartively isolated estate, this nobleman was an 
autocrat whose word was the law of his domain and of the 
near country and its valleys. 

M. Tchorjevsky loved almost beyond expression his ancient 
castle. Every stone in the old structure was inexpressibly dear 
to him as were its gardens and well-kept roads. It^ furnish- 
ings. antiques, tapestries and rare old paintings and statuary, 
some of them grotesque and barbaric, he thought to be price- 
less and hallowed. His collection of arms and war munitions 
was not excelled in variety and in curiosity by any other in 
Europe. In the great hall, stretched upon the floor, were 
rugs any one of which if sold might have fetched enough 
money to buy and pay for an American farm of average size. 
In the various China closets and in the kitchen of this noble 
house were large quantities of valuable pottery and china, 
centuries old. The cellar was stored with rare wines from 
Italy, Spain and Prance, and with rich cordials and brandies. 
The stables were stocked with aristocratic horses for driving 
and riding and innumerable carriages and sleighs. The ken- 
nels were extensive and contained the progeny of the Russian 
hound which had been crossed with blood brought from 
England. 

The lord of the castle was a hospitable man fond of giving 
elaborate private and public functions. He had been an ex- 
tensive traveler abroad and was personally known to many 
distinguished persons. These were welcome guests and were 
royally received and entertained. 

M. Tchorjevsky was possessed of great stretches of pro- 
ductive lands and had many tenants. Large sums of money 
trickled through his hands as he spent gold lavishly and he 
was continually adding to the art treasures of the castle whose 
walls enclosed its owner’s heaven. The master had eschewed 
politics and diplomacy. It is doubtful whether he had ever 
been conspicuous in these two forms of polished endeavor. His 
volcanic temperament frequently made over-sensitive by a 
large consumption of strong liquors might have made of him 
anything else better than a diplomatic politician. ^‘He is,” 
said an old servant, ^‘like sunny weather, which without any 
warning turns into a fierce hurricane. ’ ’ 

Mr. Tchorjevsky possessed a character composed of par- 

45 


adoxical qualities. He was rugged and hard as stone and 
again soft-hearted and yielding. He was prone, despite his 
usual frank manner and speech, to entirely surrender him- 
self to base suspicions. He was dynamic and his outbursts of 
temper were sometimes vicious and accompanied by acts of 
positive brutality. He would and, doubtless, had killed with- 
out compunction. Fierce eruptions were followed by evidently 
deep regrets and seasons of penitence during which he would 
remain alone and silent. 

The constant love he expressed for Marie and her chil- 
dren was an admirable trait in the mental and moral com- 
position of this picturesque man, and the memory of his wife, 
Natalia, was always sweetly odorous in his heart and mind. 

There was something in Frank Roll’s manner that had 
ever perplexed the blulf old Pole. Perhaps, it was Roll’s self- 
consciousness; perhaps, the pride of race mingled with his 
democratic principles and eager wish to work as men work 
who perform things with their hands as well as their minds. 
He could not fathom Roll’s habit of burying himself in thought 
and of his confusion on being awakened from a dream. He 
knew that his superintendent possessed a lineage, both dated 
their lines from the crusades, as proud and as old as his own. 
At this time, he realized the gentility of Roll’s character, of 
his faithfulness and value as an incorruptible business advisor 
and wished to be his friend. 

Yet, after the mysterious death of the Captain Tchor- 
jevsky, his son-in-law, Marie’s father was more perplexed in 
speculating over the peculiar manifestations of his German 
employee. Roll apparently gave no heed to the rumor of 
his alleged participation in that tragedy. He carried his head 
as high as ever, but more and more he kept aloof from M. 
Tehorjevsky and his widowed daughter. Also, the change in 
Roll’s physical appearance was apparent. His hair slowly 
whitened and his face grew pale and wan. Beneath his beard 
his strong jaws were ever firmly set. 

It cannot be denied that the painful rumor which was age- 
ing Roll, a man of poetic as well as philosophic instincts had, 
at times, a potential influence over the mind of M. Tehorjevsky. 
That he really never believed Roll capable of a base murder 
is certain, but that he did permit the vile calumny to create 
a temporary suspicion of Roll’s guilt was more than once 
evidenced by his employer. That he also endeavored to atone 

46 


for these suspicions and his violent expression of them is also 
plain. 

The following incident may serve to show, first, the depth 
of the strange conspiracy which involved Roll in an experience 
which was attended by serious consequences and second, a 
fierce exhibition of M. Tchorjevsky ’s short-lived suspicions of 
the guilt of the German. 

To an elaborate dinner given in the castle by M. Tchor- 
jevsky, several years after the death of Marie’s husband, a 
company consisting of the family physician, several Russian 
officers, their ladies, and a number of civilians including Frank 
Roll were invited. During the evening, as was the almost 
universal custom at such affairs the men had consumed much 
liquor in frequent drinking, all of them, save Roll. 

Marie was radiant as she appeared before the company 
and Roll surrendered to the impulse to ask her again for her 
hand in marriage, after having first, as was his self-imposed 
duty, asked permission to propose from her father. 

A close observer might have seen beneath his heavy 
German moustache his smiling lips as he addressed M. Tchor- 
jevsky. While he spoke he cast shy, almost timid glances, at 
the fascinating young widow who held her little boy clasped 
tightly in her arms. 

“Will you give me,” said M. Roll, pointing to Marie, 
“your little pet and beauty? I love, I adore her, and want 
her for my wife. There is nothing I would not do for her. 
Will you?” 

M. Tchorjevsky quickly and fiercely arose from his chair. 
He was trembling with anger. He seized a glass of wine and 
threw its contents in Roll’s face. He was beside himself with 
passion as he exclaimed, “Give my daughter to you? You 
who are as treacherous as Judas who sold the Christ!” He 
approached Roll who seized and attempted to force the half- 
crazed man to the floor. 

At that moment, the reports of two shots fired in quick 
succession, resounded through the room. The weapons had 
been aimed directly at Roll. Both shots took effect and 
he fell to the floor badly wounded. As he lay prone upon the 
rugs, he cried out. 

“Marie! Marie! Help me ! Help me! I am an innocent 
man. I love you. They have falsely accused me.” 

When Roll had grown calmer he faintly asked for pen 

47 


and paper and with trembling hand he painfully and slowly 
wrote this brief declaration: 

“I am innocent and not guilty of any wrong. No, no! 
Good-bye my dear Marie.” 

During this terrible scene, Marie, although laboring under 
great excitement and grief, retained something of her com- 
posure. The strain imposed by the astonishing assault was 
terrific, yet for a time she bore herself bravely and well. She 
ordered the servants to make every effort to apprehend Roll’s 
assailant. 

The family physician assisted the injured man into an 
adjoining room and dressed his wounds and then slowly joined 
the remaining guests who were gathered in a group discussing 
the strange affair. One of them in whispered tones told his 
listeners that several years before the marriage of Miss Tchor- 
jevsky, when Mr. Roll was her father’s business representative, 
he had seen him passionately telling the young lady of his 
love. Following that scene he had observed, a year and a 
half later, Mr. Roll acting in the most conspicuous manner 
at Miss Tchodjevsky ’s wedding to which the superintendent 
had been invited. 

On hearing this recital one of the group excitedly dis- 
played his pistol and exclaimed, ‘‘If that is true I will go 
in that room and finish him.” But his companions held him 
back and would not permit him to enter the wounded man’s 
apartments. 

When Marie overheard this threatening language she ran 
into Roll’s room and bolted the door. Tremblingly, she ap- 
proached the bed and looked with pity and streaming eyes 
upon the suffering and prostrate form. Fear crept into her 
breast and she cried out, ‘ ‘ 0 God 1 are you living ? I am come 
to save you, for they are now talking about killing you. Tell 
me, dear, do you know anything about the poisoning of my 
husband ? ’ ’ 

With closed eyes Roll was whispering some words she 
could not understand. 

Marie, thoroughly alarmed, dropped on her knees ex- 
claiming, “Are you dying?” She grasped his shoulders and 
shook him crying, “Please wake and look at me! You told 
me you would love me forever. I do not wish to be the cause 
of your death — wake ! wake ! ’ ’ 

At this moment, Marie heard the screams of her child 
and some one furiously knocking at the heavy door. Fear- 

48 


fully, she opened it and pushing aside the heavy portieres stood 
facing her father’s guests with a revolver in her hand. 

“You are cowards,” she said, “yet you have been too 
many for one. Father, see what you have done. He is dead,” 
she added pointing to the still form of Roll, and dropping the 
revolver, fell fainting to the floor. Her child knelt at her 
side caressing her and pulling her hand. 

Amid all this excitement M. Tchorjevsky had remained 
seated in a chair, his head clasped in his hands trying to flx 
in his mind some cause for his hasty and unwarranted anger, 
and the person or persons responsible for the mysterious shoot- 
ing. Awakened to action by Marie’s fainting and fall he di- 
rected her removal to a lounge and immediately ordered restor- 
atives. The child was taken to a nearby hall and there di- 
verted into quietness by sympathetic guests. 

All of this commotion seemed to arouse Roll from a state 
of coma. When he dimly realized that Marie was in serious 
danger he staggered from his bed. To his disordered imagina- 
tion the spirit of her dead husband appeared to him. It called 
upon him to come and see Marie and he followed the voice 
and the shade to her side. There he fell upon his knees im- 
ploring her to forgive him for any part he may have had in 
bringing about this awful experience in her young and lonely 
life. 

Just as the great clock was striking the hour of twelve 
M. Tchorjevsky instructed his servants to speedily convey Roll 
to a private hospital, and this was done. Both servants and 
guests reported they were unable to discover from whence 
the shots were fired. The language of the Russian officer who 
informed the guests that he would “finish Roll” was regarded 
as the threat of a silly, drunken man. 

CHAPTER IV 

On his return from the hospital Roll resumed his duties 
as superintendent of the Tchorjevsky estate. He was 
possessed of a fixed determination and an iron will. He 
would not give up Marie, nor would he fail to continue to 
serve M. Tchorjevsky to the best of his ability. He would 
not cease in his work of developing their great properties the 
benefit of which might be felt by Marie and her- boy as well 
as by their present owner. He would not depart from the 

49 


scenes of his labors even if he were accused every minute of 
each day of being a dastardly prisoner. 

“Marie believes me,” he ever whispered to his loving 
heart and, in time, his faith, and his loyalty and fortitude 
were rewarded. 

It was winter and the night was starlit although snow 
was heavily falling. Across the level plain galloped four coal 
black horses hitched to a richly decorated sleigh. So still it 
was one could have heard the tinkling sleigh bells for many 
miles. Buried in furs sat or half -reclined Marie and her father. 
They were returning from a ball and just now were talking 
about Frank Roll. His house stood on the edge of the plain, 
and a light shed its rays from a window of the library on the 
glittering snow beyond. 

“See, Marie,” said M. Tchorjevsky, “Roll is at work. Con- 
found it, the fellow is always at work, either for me or 
himself. ’ ’ 

“What a lonely life he leads,” softly murmured Marie. 
Her father’s quick ear caught the sympathetic tones of her 
voice. 

“Suppose we drive over and see him? It is not well for 
him to be alone so much. Do you know I have seen and heard 
him standing on the great rock overhanging the canyon singing 
sweet and sad love songs. What a singular performance for 
a man?” 

Marie nestled close to her father and rested her head on 
his shoulder. 

“Marie, do you in your heart care for Frank Roll? 
Answer me ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, father,” she replied proudly lifting her head, “ever 
since the night he was so badly wounded.” 

“Why,” said M. Tchorjevsky, bursting into tears, “did you 
not tell me this before. I would have saved him these months 
of sorrow and tears.” Then he gave orders to the driver to 
run the horses as fast as they could go across the plain in the 
direction of the twinkling light. Soon the panting animals 
were drawn up in front of Roll’s door. The Pole alighted and 
softly crossing the portico he gazed into the room wherein 
Roll sat busily writing. Occasionally, he would put aside his 
pen and clasp his head in his strong, brown hands. 

M. Tchorjevsky knocked and a servant almost immediately 
opened the door. Putting his finger to his lips the visitor bade 

50 


the servant to say nothing and then tip-toed into Roll’s room, 
drawing close behind him the portieres. 

‘‘Well old bachelor,” he exclaimed, putting kindly his 
hand on Roll’s shoulder, “I see you are writing a long letter.” 

“No, M. Tchorjevsky, my diary,” answered Roll, quickly 
arising to greet him. 

“Bring me something hot, old man, I am cold.” 

“With pleasure,” replied Roll. “Wait a moment until 
I fetch a glass,” and he quickly passed through the portieres 
where he met Marie timidly standing in the hall. 

M. Tchorjevsky, smilingly, heard Roll greeting his daugh- 
ter. 

“Why, Marie, how long, how very long it has been since 
last I saw you. My God, but you are pretty — prettier than 
ever, while I have grown old. See how gray is my hair, grown 
gray thinking of you.” 

Marie walked to him and placed her hands on his broad 
breast. She could not restrain her tears as she said: 

“My dear, I can never forget what happened and what 
you told me on the night you were shot in my father’s castle,” 
and she drew closer to him and lovingly whispered in his ear. 

M. Tchorjevsky softly approached the portieres and saw 
them thus and then returned to his chair. He bowed his 
head in sorrow and in remorse. How much of grief he might 
have saved this couple, happy at last in the perfect knowledge 
of each other’s constant affection. He was immersed in 
thought when Roll returned with glasses. 

“Pardon me for not returning earlier,” he said with hap- 
piness in his eyes. M. Tchorjevsky arose and grasping his 
hand he said bluntly: 

“You are all right, my friend. Better late than never.” 
Then he swallowed a drink of brandy. 

“You had better go and bring a third glass. Roll. I wish 
to ask Marie a question.” 

Roll did not know how to exactly interpret his meaning. 
He left the room and going to Marie in the hall he took her 
face in his hands and told her her father desired to speak to 
her. Both were excited, but before they could move away 
they were joined by M. Tchorjevsky, who wished to know 
if they had been “talking of the past,” and then invited them 
to join him in Roll’s library. Here his very good humor was 
plainly apparent. He filled the glasses and all three drank 
together. After which Roll was invited to visit the castle on 

51 


Easter Sunday. The German was quite overcome. He grasped 
his employer’s hand and kissed it and as he bent his head M, 
Tchorjevsky placed his disengaged hand upon it. Looking 
up he solemnly murmured, “May God unite them in their 
love.” Marie, with folded but trembling hands, asked: 

“Father, do you mean it? Is it true?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “Roll, you must come to the castle 
Easter Sunday,” and then pointing to the clock he said: “It 
is late. The storm has broken and now we are to have fair 
weather,” he added, looking into Roll’s face. They bade 
their host good night and started on their way. Roll insisted 
upon accompanying them to the impatient horses and having 
seated them in the sleigh he carefully arranged them in heavy 
robes and bade the driver to start his horses. The magnificent 
animals sprang forward and dashed across the plain. 

Roll stood in the cold morning air, his feet buried in 
snow, watching the rapidly receding vehicle. He entered his 
library. The candles burned brightly. 

“Here is where she stood,” he said, “and over there in 
that great chair M. Tchorjevsky sat and drank his brandy. 
AYliat was it he said — ‘May God unite them in their love?’ 
Yes, that was it; and when Marie asked if it were true he re- 
plied ‘Yes’ and invited me to the castle. 0, I have been 
sweetly blessed! I am not dreaming.” 

Roll, as eager as a passionate youth, looked through his 
wardrobe and selected the garments he thought most befitting 
to wear to the castle on Easter Sunday. As he whistled 
softly he arranged them in order. Then with Marie’s eyes 
looking into his own he lighted a cigarette, dropped into a 
chair and closing his eyes surrendered himself to a delicious 
revery. His powerful boar hound stretched himself at his 
master’s feet and with his head resting between his enormous 
paws he softly wagged his tail and turned his serious eyes upon 
Roll’s happy face. And thus they remained until the dawn 
came. 

CHAPTER V 

Easter Sunday, a day to be memorable in the lives of 
Marie and Frank Roll, broke fair but bitterly cold. In the 
kitchen and the servants’ quarters of the Tchorjevsky castle 
preparations for the gustatory celebration of the day were com- 

52 


menced with the appearance of the gray light. Other mem- 
bers of the household were busily engaged in putting the 
great hall, the dining room, the art room and the conservator- 
ies in order. The dining room was beautifully decorated with 
winter verdure and hot-house plants. The servants donned 
their rich liveries, worn only on festal and religious celebra- 
tions. The guests arrived as the day wore on and among 
them was Frank Roll, his face beaming with the anticipation 
of the early realization of cherished hopes. Rusisan officers 
in full-dress uniform drove furiously up the broad avenue 
and alighted from their sleighs at the main entrance. An im- 
posing major-domo led them into the reception hall to a huge 
sideboard loaded with liquors and mineral waters. Civilians 
attired after the Parisian modes and ladies richly gowned were 
present and, moving about with an amiable manner, was the 
family priest — an old friend of M. Tchorjevsky. 

Marie wore a gown of heavy velvet trimmed with jet and 
silver and gold filagree work. Her throat and waist were 
adorned and half-concealed in the billowy folds of lace as old as 
the castle and as priceless as the magnificent jewels shining in 
her elaborately arranged coiffure. Rings gemmed with dia- 
monds and rare precious stones almost covered her fingers. 
Her white satin slippers were beaded with tiny pearls and 
fastened with silver buckles studded with diamonds. Her 
face was flushed with happiness and when she joined Prank 
Roll her eyes were suffused, grew limpid and intoxicating. 

The guests having been placed at table, a procession of 
cooks and servants entered the dining room preceded by the 
chef. He carried on his extended arms a shallow pan in 
which, floating in an aromatic sauce, reposed a gaily deco- 
rated pig. A silver cross depended from a gold cord thrown 
around the pig’s neck. Another silver cross attached to his 
shoulder bore a seasonable inscription. He held carrots in his 
teeth sculptured in form to represent flowers. This culinary 
triumph was profusely decorated with bows and streamers 
of gay ribbon and around and about him were huge, browned, 
roasted potatoes. The procession marched around the table, 
each servant bending his head as the guests threw silver coins to 
his feet. The chef marched to the sideboard and, at a sign from 
his master, began to carve and serve, with the assistance of 
the cooks, the highly prized porker. Other attendants served 
the guests with a great variety of foods and still another group 
of waiters attended solely to the bibulous tastes of the diners. 

53 


Seated at the head of the table was M. Tchorjevsky. He 
occupied a heavy, magnificently carved oaken chair — a family 
heirloom and one which had occupied the center of the throne 
of an ancient Polish King. By his side, away to his right, sat 
Marie. As the dinner ended he arose and addressing his guests 
said: 

M. TCHORJEVSKY REMINISCENCES 
CHAPTER VI 

‘‘Early in my life, when serving Poland as an officer in 
the ranks against the Russians, my regiment was engaged in 
a fierce battle. Although greatly outnumbered we made at 
first an aggressive fight and then a stubborn defensive one. 
In the end odds told and the regiment was totally cut into 
pieces. I was the only officer of several who had participated 
in that engagement who was not killed. Badly wounded and 
weak from the loss of blood, after much difficulty, I man- 
aged to crawl unseen to a woodland on the edge of the battle 
field. I continued my painful progress until I reached a 
clump of underbrush and then like a wounded deer I hid 
myself to die. I was awakened to consciousness by the hands 
of a Polish girl touching my chest. She had seen the decora- 
tions on my breast and believing me to be an officer of high 
rank was making every effort to revive me. She placed my 
wounded hand upon my breast and then, seeing life in my 
open eyes, she quickly bound my face in a handkerchief and 
sped away to her father, who fortunately for me was in their 
humble home. He was a forester and to him his daughter 
told of her strange discovery.” 

“ ‘He is a great general, papa,’ she said, ‘rich and mighty. 
Come, we must save him, and maybe he will be generous and 
reward us.’ ” 

“ ‘It does not matter, my dear,’ replied her father, 
‘whether he be rich or poor. He is a Pole and is in need. 
We will go to him at once,’ and they hurried to my side. They 
gently carried and dragged me to the brink of a small river 
and here removing my outer clothes they bathed and washed 
my wounds in clear, cool and sweet water. Refreshed, I re- 
gained my proper senses, and then, supported on either side by 
these good people, we crossed a narrow and frail-looking foot 
bridge. Every moment I expected the little crossing to col- 
lapse, it shook and swayed so violently with our weight, and 

54 


precipitate us to the floor of the deep canyon below. But we 
got over in safety and shortly reached their little cottage 
only a few rods away. Here I remained until I recovered 
sufficient strength to walk unaided, when I proceeded to my 
home. Before my departure I presented them with my purse 
and some jewels I wore. These honest souls saved my life, 
and now, ’ ’ taking from the table a glass of wine, ‘ ‘ I wish you, 
my friends, to drink to the health and memory of the wood- 
man and his daughter.” 

The guests arose, tipped their glasses, and as M. Tchor- 
jevsky drank they too sipped their wine. Proceeding, he said, 
placing his hand upon Marie’s: 

‘‘When my daughter here was scarcely seven years of 
age, I concluded to visit the scenes of one of Poland’s battle- 
fields against the Russians. At this time, Russian arms were 
victorious and I had many enemies among that country’s lead- 
ing officers. I did not know at what time my home might be 
ravaged and my property stolen and carried away. So I 
thought I would bury and hide a part of my money and jewels 
on the scene of one of our fierce struggles. My dear wife, 
Natalia, Marie, my child, a single servant and a driver accom- 
panied me,” 

Drawing a silver cigarette case from a pocket of his coat 
he said, with tears in his eyes: “Every time I take from this 
case a cigarette I look on the face of my dear Natalia. You 
shall see it,” and he passed the case to Marie, who in turn 
gave it to the person on her right, and thns it went from guest 
to guest around the table until it reached the host. The por- 
trait was a rare work of art. The picture was a miniature in 
ivory inlaid or set in the silver metal and surrounded by a 
circle of tiny precious stones. 

“Riding in a buggy in which my money and valuables 
were hid we started on our journey. On the evening of the 
first day, still being on my father’s and my own land, I con- 
cluded to stop at a roadside inn which had been built upon 
my father’s property by an avaricious, dishonest and savage 
Jew. I had known nothing of the man’s character or of his 
reputation, save that he kept a public house, and, as it was man- 
aged ostensibly for the purpose of accommodating travelers 
passing over our lands to their points of destination, he had 
never been disturbed, and Natalia, Marie and I, with the 
servant, entered the inn, leaving the driver with the horses 
and carriage. My treasure I now carried on my person. In 

55 


the room were many rough-looking travelers and other char- 
acters. I took my family to a table in a corner and watched 
the scene.” 

‘ ‘ A number of drunken men sat at the several tables drink- 
ing and singing. They were served by a beautiful Jewish 
girl. Some refused to take change from her; others tossed 
gold and silver coins to her open palms, and all were making 
love to her. It was a disorderly and drunken spectacle. I 
called my servant and told him to go to the proprietor and 
secure a private and decent apartment for my family. He did 
so, but the Jew, a big coarse fellow, shouted to him in reply, 

‘ Let him wait ! ’ ” 

“My servant answered promptly: ‘You had better give 
my master suitable rooms immediately. He is a Polish gen- 
eral and can arrest you for not obeying him. Moreover, you 
are a trespasser and are staying on his father’s land. You 
have no legal right, anyhow, to keep this disreputable house ! ’ ” 
“The Jew laughed and exclaimed in a loud voice: ‘I 

don ’t care a d for a Polish general ! ’ 

“Drawing my pistols I leveled both at him, saying: ‘I 
half-intend to shoot you like a dog for your vulgar insolence. ’ ’ ’ 
“Some of the travelers were frightened vrhen they heard 
this threat, but the Jew stood smiling and fearless. Sud- 
denly he gave a quick signal to a group of bandits concealed 
in the cellar of the inn. These desperate men, heavily armed, 
ran quickly up the stairway and ordered us out of the room. 
It was raining and I hesitated. The Jew whispered to the 
leader of the gang of cut-throats and placed a bottle of vodka 
before his gang. Realizing the imminent danger to my wife 
and child of this situation, I tried to lead them from the 
building. As we approached the outer door the chief of the 
bandits addressed my wife as ‘a beautiful Polish girl,’ and 
quickly seizing her wrist as quickly drew her to the counter 
and insisted upon her taking a drink of wine. 

“Driven to desperation by this bold and dastardly con- 
duct I again drew my pistols and springing to my wife’s side 
I thrust both muzzles against the breast of the bandit chief. 
‘Coward, beast, bandit!’ I exclaimed, ‘this lady is my wife!’ 
He sharply struck one of my wrists with his hand, the muz- 
zle of the gun was deflected but a trifle, there was an ex- 
plosion and the ruffian fell dead at my feet. 

“His companions, seeing their leader on the floor, jumped 
to their feet, cursing me and threatening me with all kinds 

56 


of death. ^Hang him by his hair!’ ‘Burn him!’ ‘Don’t let 
him escape ! ’ ‘ Shoot him ! ’ and similar expressions of vengeful 
anger. 

“My driver, who had escaped to the outside, fired two 
pistol shots into the screaming mob. One of the bullets set 
fire to a heap of clothes and paper hastily gathered on the 
floor for my partial cremation. 

“ ‘Let my master alone,’ my driver yelled. ‘If you touch 
him I will shoot you in the back and then burn up the house. 
Come outside, you cowardly curs, and I will fight you by my- 
self. ’ 

“All of this confusion and the presence of danger added 
to the fear of further personal insult shocked Natalia to such 
a degree she fainted and dropped into a chair. Little Marie, 
holding tight to her mother’s limp form, was terror-stricken 
and crying. My servant stood before them with drawn pistols, 
bravely defending my loved ones. The maddened guests and 
thieves were breaking the panes of glass in the windows with 
chairs, but the stout iron bars with which they were protected 
prevented any escape. The fire had gained considerable head- 
way and all of us were choking with smoke. 

“The fear of the fire and suffocation added to my strength. 
Telling my man to hold the crowd back I quickly knocked 
down with the butt of my pistol two guards at the door and 
picking up both my wife and my daughter escaped to the 
road. My brave servant was caught before he could pass 
through the door and I heard the crowd yelling: ‘Hang him! 
Hang him!’ 

“The darkness veiled us and enabled us with the assist- 
ance of my driver to place Natalia and Marie in my carriage. 
I scrambled in, the driver took his seat and lashed the horses 
into a run. We were soon followed, however. I heard an 
occasional pistol shot fired aimlessly and the steady going 
of horses’ feet. Sometimes the sounds of pursuit came from 
the rear. Again I could hear the beating of horses’ hoofs in 
front of us and I concluded our pursuers were making an at- 
tempt to block the road in front, and in the end to surround 
us. Suddenly I saw the dim forms of horses and riders ahead 
and quickly alighting from the carriage we ran into an ad- 
joining wood. Both from the front and rear vollies were 
fired at us, but luckily we were then out of the carriage and 
in the shelter of the trees.” 

“When we had reached some thick bushes I took the 


57 


treasure I carried and quickly hid it. We then tried to push 
farther on into the brush, hut Natalia,” continued M. Tchor- 
jevsky with weeping eyes and broken voice, could no longer 
endure the strain, and she quickly died of an acute attack of 
heart trouble.” 

“The bandits had succeeded in locating us in the woods 
and were steadily firing their pistols in our direction. My 
driver remained somewhat to our rear, holding the gang in 
check and replied, as long as his ammunition lasted, to every 
shot. In the end the robbers came up to us and effected our 
capture. 

“These men had now a new leader. When he saw my dead 
Natalia and Marie weeping over her prostate body, he and his 
companions removed their caps. ‘Poor little child,’ he said, 
and patted Marie upon the head. ‘We will take them to 
the cave,’ he told his men. Natalia we gently lifted and 
bound to a saddle on the back of a horse. After our eyes were 
securely blindfolded we were marched to a rocky cavern 
some distance away. On this sad journey I carried my little 
daughter in my arms.” Here Marie arose impetuously and 
throwing her arms about her father’s neck murmured “Poor 
papa! Poor papa!” 

“When we had reached the cavern, which was really an 
enormous subterranean chamber of several separate rooms, 
Natalia was placed upon a rug thrown down on the rocky floor. 
The leader gave a key to one of his men and ordered him to 
open a prison in the cave and quickly bring a physician, who 
was kept there in secret, in chains. When the doctor appeared 
he said to him: ‘Resore this lady or you will be shot.’ ” 

“The doctor knelt at Natilia’s side and peered closely 
into her colorless face and sightless eyes. 

“ ‘It is impossible,’ replied the doctor in a low voice; ‘this 
lady is quite dead. I cannot restore the dead to life.’ 

“ ‘Then,’ angrily replied the chief, ‘you shall be shot.’ He 
told his men to take the physician to the place of execution. 
He was placed on a tall rock, from which he could see the 
skeletons and mouldering forms of those who had been shot to 
death there and then hurled into the rocky pit below. 

‘ ‘ The squad of men in charge of this proposed insane deed 
leveled their weapons and took deliberate aim. The doctor 
threw up one hand, the palm turned outward. 

“ ‘Brothers,’ he said, ‘if you promise not to kill me or 
that man and child, I will make you rich ! ^ 

58 


“ ‘How?’ they asked. 

“ ‘Because I know that the man with the child is very 
rich. Go tell your leader to accept this offer.’ ” 

‘ ‘ Some of them came to me and asked if the doctor told the 
truth. I answered: ‘Yes. I will make you rich if you spare 
our lives.’ The leader jumped to his feet and exclaimed: ‘No, 
no, it must not be!’ and sprang upon me with a pistol in his 
hand. I called for help and the bandits seized their chief and 
carrying him to the doctor’s former prison they chained and 
locked him in. 

“ ‘Now,’ said I to these treacherous, cruel men, ‘take us 
back to the spot where you found and captured us. ’ 

“ ‘What for?’ they asked suspiciusly. 

“ ‘To get the money and treasure I buried near there.’ 

“Some got picks and shovels out of the cavern and some 
mounted horses. All were excited. When I saw several of 
the bandits, half mad with greed and the love of gold, start 
off to find the treasure and to carry it away before their com- 
panions could reach the spot where it was hidden, I stopped 
them and calling all together, I said: 

“ ‘This treasure must be divided equally between you. 
There must be no quarreling and no fighting. You must make 
me your leader and surrender your arms. Then I will find and 
divide the treasure.’ I took two revolvers, a third I gave to 
the doctor and a fourth to my driver. The rest were buried.” 

“Natalia was again bound to the back of a horse, and tak- 
ing Marie by the hand we returned to a great rock overhang- 
ing the pit. Bushes grew around the base of the stone. We 
stopped. 

“ ‘Line up here!’ I commanded sternly, ‘so that each man 
may receive his share.’ 

“The bandits at last understood my real meaning. Some 
dropped to their knees and declared they would ask no more if 
their lives were spared. Others threw coins and jewels to little 
Marie, who stood near the restive horse, crying for her mother 
‘to get off and come to her.’ I ordered the thieves to throw 
their booty over the edge of the cliff and they did so. ’ 

“ ‘Look upon my dead wife, whose death you caused, 
and upon my heart-broken little one,’ and as I spoke I was 
tempted to shoot every one of them to death. 

“My driver tied the horse that bore the body of Natalia 
to a bush and softly stole away to the canyon. He, too, was 
lured from duty with the hope to possess that which he had 

59 


never earned. I sent the doctor after him to prevent this man 
who hitherto had been faithful to me from even touching the 
filthy treasure in the bottom of the canyon. When the driver 
saw the doctor approaching he quickly fired two shots at him, 
but both missed the physician. The latter then replied to the 
attack. When he returned he said: ‘I have shot the dog to 
death. ’ 

“One of the bandit gang appeared to be much calmer and 
more self-possessed than his fellows. He had a wicked face. 
Stepping forward out of the line and folding his arms he said : 

“ ‘Perhaps I am taking a big chance in speaking to you. 
You are very clever and have trapped us. We are now in 
your power, and before you do anything more I wish to speak 
to you.’ ” 

“I nodded an assent. 

“ ‘I am a Pole,’ said the bandit. ‘When the war began 
I was rich and respected. A detachment of Kussian soldiers 
attacked my palace, killed all of my retainers and the soldiers 
I commanded. They stole my wife and carried away with 
them my fortune and everything they could find of value. I 
was locked in a room in the cellar of the palace. The struc- 
ture was set on fire and I was left to burn with it. 

“ ‘I escaped from that room through a passage to our 
chapel, and entered the crypt. I opened a coffin and stripped 
one of my ancestors of his clothing. Discarding my uniform 
I put on these clothes and thus disguised made my way out 
of the chapel and through the Russian lines to the castle of 
a friend. We raised an army of one thousand men, but in 
the end the Russians defeated us and all of that one thousand 
men that is left is the leader you have chained and imprisoned, 
myself and these other men you have lined up. 

“ ‘I was angry and displeased with the whole world and 
everybody in it. I wished to be avenged for the wrongs and 
misfortunes I had suffered. And so this leader, who is a Rus- 
sian, and myself turned bandits, robbing and killing both 
Poles and Russians alike. 

“ ‘Now listen!’ The speaker took a book from his pocket 
and wrote rapidly on its pages with a pencil. Then he handed 
the book to me. 

“ ‘I have just written, my lord, the diagram of caves 
and places in which we have buried many valuables and arms 
stolen from the Polish nobility. It is genuine treasure, and 

60 


when I say the gold and arms are there, as written, I do not 
deceive yon as yon have deceived ns.’ 

“He stepped forward again, and throwing open his coat 
he prondly said, holding high his head, ^Now shoot.’ ” 

“When the Pole exposed his breast I saw that he wore 
a cross of the crnsaders, and I pitied him. I opened the book 
and fonnd the names of many of my Polish friends and 
acqnaintances whom I knew had been robbed and whose homes 
had been bnrned and destroyed. I believed the man’s story 
and I told him not to be alarmed, and instrncted the doctor 
to bring ont the Rnssian leader confined in the cellar. 

“When he appeared and saw that his companions were 
prisoners and helpless he became furious. 

“ ‘See what you have done!’ he screamed. ‘I told you not 
to give up your arms to this man,’ pointing to me. He 
gnashed his teeth and his fierce eyes were ablaze. Although 
in chains he Stretched out his arms, sprang at me and clawed 
the air with his long fingers and nails. He looked like an en- 
raged demon. The Pole stopped him and held him back. 

“ ‘Be quiet!’ he exclaimed. ‘I am tired of robbing and 
killing. This nobleman and his child and the presence of his 
dead wife fill me with sorrow and awake my conscience. Once 
I, too, was possessed of wife and child. I am tired of it all 
and wish to live an honorable life. If I am permitted to live 
I will rob and kill no more.’ 

“ ‘You, too, would turn traitor, then!’ shouted the Rus- 
sian, and fiercely jumped upon him. Although manacled, his 
actions were quick and he seemed to have the agility and 
strength of a maddened tiger. The Pole, during the strug- 
gle that ensued, forced him to the edge of the cliff. 

“ ‘Look down there!’ he exclaimed to the Russian, ‘and 
see the crumbling skeletons and decaying bodies of the inno- 
cent men you have murdered ! I do not wish your bloody loot. 
I am through with you, forever. Go, you beast and mingle 
your bones with the bones of your victims!’ and he strove to 
push the Russian over the edge of the cliff. As the latter top- 
pled on the brink he suddenly clasped the Pole in his arms. 
For a moment they remained struggling and swaying hack 
and forth, and then I saw them, locked in that awful embrace, 
disappear into the chasm. Both of the desperate men were 
horribly broken and killed on the sharp rocks below. 

“The doctor and I slowly proceeded to the hiding place 
of my valuables. These were recovered and we continued our 

61 


sad and dutiful journey to my home. My prisoners were turned 
over to the civil authorities and the judge, a friend of mine, 
after hearing my mournful story exiled the miscreants to 
Siberia. Natalia, my dear wife, was embalmed and with proper 
honor and affection entombed in the chapel. 

“And now, my friends,” M. Tchorjevsky went on, draw- 
ing the cigarette case from his pocket, “that you have seen 
the portrait of Natalia, if you will follow me I will show you 
my dear wife in person.” 

This announcement was received by the guests, many of 
whom were weeping, with the greatest astonishment. Was 
their host going mad? Had grief and sad memories upset his 
rugged mind? Marie arose with her father and joined Frank 
Koll, who, with the remaining guests, were preparing to fol- 
low her father. 

CHAPTER VII 

M. Tchorjevsky called to a servant to fetch a lantern, and 
then led the company to the first floor or basement of the castle. 
He walked to a heavy door and threw back the iron bolt and, 
sending the lantern-bearer ahead, bade his guests enter a dark 
tunnel or passage-way. He instructed Marie and Frank Roll 
to return alone to the dining hall, after closing the door and 
bolting it. Then he rejoined his guests. 

The tunnel, dimly lighted by the lantern, seemed endless 
to the excited company, but finally a second door was encount- 
ered and through this the expectant guests led by M. 
Tchorjevsky entered the family vault, or crypt, of the chapel. 
It was a remarkable room. 

The tomb was illuminated by beautiful silver oil lamps 
dimly burning. On two sides of it were rows of platforms 
of polished granite supported by granite columns decorated 
with the forms of doves. On the breast of each dove was a rep- 
resentation in gold of vivid lightening and in the center of each 
electric display was a valuable sapphire. Every pedestal up- 
held a coffin in which reposed the mortal remains of some mem- 
ber of the Tchorjevsky family. Each coffin was embellished 
with solid silver objects and draped in some soft black ma- 
terial. The family eschutcheon was embroidered on all the 
covers and beneath the picture of the arms of the house was the 
name of the deceased, his rank, civil or military title and date 
of birth and death. A golden crucifix surrounded by delicate 

62 


mosaic work lay upon each coffin. To the rear of the vault, 
that he might best keep watch over its inanimate occupants, 
stood an angel, imaged in marble. This statue rested on a 
pedestal of granite. Delicate clouds worked in pink marble 
were grouped at his feet. In his left hand the angel carried 
scales and in the right hand he grasped a sword inlaid with 
gold, the point touching the clouds in the direction of the 
earth. His wings were spread and on some of their pinions 
were inscribed the names of the dead. The name of the sculptor 
of this remarkable conception was carved in the pedestal in- 
closed in a triangle. 

M. Tchorjevsky took the lantern from the servant and 
ordered him to retire to the tunnel. He then called his guests 
close together and approached a coffin just in front of the 
angel. It was Natalia’s resting place. The silver casket was 
enveloped in heavy black velvet edged with golden tape. In 
the center embroidered in gold bullion were the words: ‘‘Here 
rests Natalia Tchorjevsky. Born May 12, 1819 — Died July 
17, 1843.” 

M‘ Tchorjevsky gently drew back the drapery of the 
coffin, which disclosed an opening in it covered with heavy 
glass. He invited his guests to look, and each in turn bending 
over it saw clearly beneath the life-like features of the 
dead lady. After a long and lingering look he replaced the 
cover and his guests returned through the dark passageway to 
the light and life of the dining hall. The host shortly after- 
ward followed them, having instructed his servant to safeguard 
the vault. 

CHAPTER VHI 

As he was passing through the garden a few moments later 
M. Tchorjevsky beheld Marie in the arms of Prank Roll. He 
smiled and pulled his beard in great content, but walked on 
pretending not to have observed them. The happy couple yet 
lingered lovingly beneath a walnut tree near an immense 
clock. 

When he entered the dining room where his guests were 
drinking and discussing their visit to the tomb, M. Tchorjevsky 
looked around. “Why, where is Marie?” he asked, with a 
great show of ignorance, and when his daughter entered the 
room later he fondly drew her to him, filled his own and her 
glass with wine and pledged her health. 

“And now, where is Roll?” asked M. Tchorjevsky. For a 

63 


moment no one replied. The first to answer was a Russian 
officer, much befuddled with hard drinking. He was unstead- 
ily standing on his feet holding, for support, the coat-tails of 
a second officer not quite so drunk as himself. “1 saw Roll,” 
he stammered, ‘ ‘ counting the ticks of the clock under a walnut 
tree, out yonder.” 

“You don’t know what you are talking about” inter- 
jected the second officer. “He was writing information to 
help win its next war with Russia.” 

Marie heard this insulting remark, and with fiaming 
cheeks she crossed over to the Russian and sharply slapped 
his face. He was an old friend of the Russian whom she 
had rejected. 

“You drunken Russian beast! You shall not insult 
in Roll’s face, who promptly knocked him down. 

Roll entered the room at this time and Marie said to him, 
pointing to the officer: “He has endeavored to dishonor you 
by saying you are preparing to send secret disloyal messages 
to Germany.” 

Roll drew out his card, wrote the name of the place and 
the time at which he would meet his traducer, and handed it 
to him. The drunken fellow laughed and threw a glass of wine 
in Roll’s face, who promptly knocked him hown. 

“I will take his place,” said another officer dressed in 
full uniform. He drew his sword and pointing with it to Marie 
he said to Roll: “You poisoned her husband and are now try- 
ing to take his rights in this family. I will fix you. ’ ’ 

“You cannot prove your cowardly assertion,” replied Roll. 

“This will prove it,” retorted the Russian, tapping his 
sword. 

“As you will,” answered Roll, with the utmost coolness, 
and he took from the wall an ancient sword. ‘ ‘ I am ready. ’ ’ 

“As they commenced to duel, Marie cried out: “Beware, 
dear, he is very quick ! ’ ’ 

Roll smiled and said : “I fight for the honor of my house 
and without fear of this man,'” and swiftly attacked his oi>- 
ponent. The Russian was a skilled swordsman in full prac- 
tice. He quickly wounded Roll’s left hand, who in turn, several 
times cut deep into the body of his foe. The floor was covered 
with blood. 

Roll soon realized he was no match for his antagonist at 
regular sword play, so while he grasped the hilt of his weapon 
firmly with his right, with his left hand he deftly seized the 

64 


point of his magnificently tempered blade and bent it until it 
formed the segment of a circle. In this form he used the 
weapon to ward off his enemy’s thrusts and protect his own 
body. 

Suddenly the Russian made a furious lunge which he in- 
tended should reach a vital spot, but Roll first parried it with 
the bended sword and then, with a quick movement raised 
his weapon in a vertical position and let go the point. The 
blade, released, at once sprang into its proper position and in 
doing so the point was driven directly into the heart of the 
Russian. He reeled, fell to the floor and quickly died. The 
body was immediately placed in a sleigh and, accompanied by 
his two friends, the dead officer was driven away. 

When the excitement had subsided and comparative order 
had been restored Tchorjevsky left the drawing room and going 
to an apartment opened his safe. He took from it a jewel case 
which held two rings and a Bible which had been used by his 
wife and himself. He then sought among his guests until he 
found the old priest and whispered to him his plan. ^‘We will 
surprise them,” he said, and together they called all those in 
the palace to the grand art room. Here M. Tchorjevsky took h 
seat. He asked Marie and Prank Roll to come to him, and 
placing his hand on the latter’s shoulder he inquired if Roll 
would ever ‘‘protect Marie as he had protected the honor of 
his house.” Roll raised his hand and swore that he would al- 
ways protect Marie. 

“What have you to say, Maries?” 

Marie replied, steadily: “I will do as you wish, my 
father. ’ ’ 

M.Tchorjevsky then presented the rings. Each slipped a 
ring on the other’s finger and then they placed their hands upon 
the Bible which the old priest extended to them. The marriage 
service was then read and the happy couple united. 

After the marriage ceremony his father-in-law presented 
Frank Roll with a document duly witnessed giving him full 
authority to manage his vast properties and other business in- 
terests until William, his young grandson, became of legal age. 

Some of the Russian members of the autocracy were very 
displeased at this marriage and the turning over of so large 
an estate to the German. They whispered among themselves 
about this surprising affair and some showed their want of 
appreciation of it by abruptly leaving the banquet and the 
grounds. 


65 


CHAPTER IX 

At the time, the incidents described in this narration took 
place the enforcement of the civil law in many parts of the 
great Russian Empire was a negligible quantity or perform- 
ance. The owners of large landed estates like that of M. Tchor- 
jevsky were ^‘a law unto themselves.” Provided they did 
not seriously clash with the military authorities they did pretty 
much as they pleased, and as nearly all of the male members 
of the Russian aristocracy and of the Prussian nobility, resid- 
ing in Russia, had seen army service, fighting for or against 
Russia, they were, to a degree, united in a common bond to 
protect themselves against the alleged encroachments of the 
middle and peasant classes. 

Polish noblemen residing in Russia opened their castles 
to Russians of the same class during the intervals of peace be- 
tween the two countries and were chosen to fill positions of the 
highest trust in civil affairs. The pride of birth, descent and 
of landed estate is stronger in Russia than in any of the 
European governments — save Poland. In this respect, the 
respective aristocratic classes of these countries were in close 
accord. 

In Southern Russia, wherein the principal events of this 
narrative took place, a man occupying the position of M. 
Tchorjevsky, whether Polish or Russian, could have an in- 
ferior exiled to Siberia or imprisoned, with the wave of his 
hand. He had but to indicate his wish to the local magistrate, 
who was his creature, and the unfortunate object of his dis- 
favor was at once committed to a higher and distant court. 
With the accused, went the record of the case, prepared by the 
committing magistrate, and such committals could, of course, 
result in but one sentence — Siberia or other imprisonment. 

Immediately following a revolution or a war, Southern 
Russia would be run over, almost invariably, by companies or 
“gangs'” of bandits, often commanded by persons of military 
training. Their audacity was amazing; for they were known 
to attack and pillage the castles of the autocrats, abduct their 
women and slay without compunction or fear of the law. Some 
of these leaders were men who had been conspicuous in service 
to their country, Poland or Russia — but who, having been 
partly deprived of their private fortunes, turned malfactors 
and became dangerous enemies to the peace and prosperity 
of isolated communities. 


66 


Wealthy Poles were frequently made the objects of Rus- 
sian intrigue and lawless procedure and German citizens were 
in danger, at all times, of losing their liberty, business inter- 
ests and sometimes their lives. Frank Roll, as shown, re- 
mained an object of suspicion, at intervals, even to his father- 
in-law, for many years after he became a member of M. Tchor- 
jevsky’s domestic circle. 

The peasant and servant classes were densely ignorant. 
They knew nothing save that they had been released from 
official or governmental serfdom by the grace of Alexander I. 
They were slaves, drunken and unreliable and ever actuated 
by a small cupidity. Tempted with money or any visible form 
of it, they yielded themselves to the most reprehensible acts. 
Their passion for gold made them murderers, treacherous 
household servants, kidnapers, and the tools of plotters and 
professional bandits. Poverty and alcohol were also largely 
responsible for their crimes. 

Wandering bands of gypsies sometimes visited that part of 
Southern Russia in which was located M. Tchorjevsky ’s castle. 
They preyed upon the grazing stock of the landlords and of 
other persons who could afford to rent or own homes. They 
were despised and ostracized even by the poorest of peasants 
and could be bought to perpetrate almost any crime. Be- 
cause they had no permanent habitation, detection of thefts 
and recovery of property were difficult. 

The peasants were not vicious by nature. They had been 
brutalized by meagre food, strong drink and harsh servitude. 
Some of them were faithful to their masters and to the mem- 
bers of the families whom they served. The most desperate 
of them were mentally as simple as little children, gullible 
and literally could be led by the nose if they thought their 
leader was superior to them in position and in the possession 
of money. 

Can one imagine a gang of professional robbers in France, 
England or the United States falling quickly into as trans- 
parent a trap as did the thieves whom M. Tchorjevsky cap- 
tured? Not even the hope of a large reward could successfully 
tempt the former to throw down their weapons and quietly 
yield to the control of their own prisoners. 

For nearly a year after the marriage of Marie and Roll, 
M. Tchorjevsky was absent from the castle, traveling in far 
parts of Europe. While in Warsaw he received information 

67 


that William, son to Marie by Capt. Tchorjevsky, had been kid- 
naped by some unknown persons and that despite a thorough 
search by Roll and his servant's and the police the whereabouts 
of the boy remained unknown. The letter further said that 
Marie was in a pitiable condition of mind as the result of the 
mysterious disappearance of her son. 

Very much perturbed, the old Polish nobleman started im- 
mediately for his home. It required a long time to make the 
journey by stage. His daughter and the servants were de- 
lighted and somewhat relieved to see him. Roll was absent 
scouring the country with a posse in a fruitless endeavor to 
find the lost boy. 

M. Tchorjevsky was told a number of stories concerning 
the abduction of his heir. Some of the servants said that prior 
to the boy^s absence they had heard mysterious noises in the 
castle for which they were unable to account. The governess 
told him she had left William alone in the nursery in the early 
evening, for a short time, and when she returned he was gone. 
Nothing was disturbed in the room, according to her story, but 
a close investigation by the lord of the castle convinced him 
that the child had been conveyed to the garden through a win- 
dow of the nursery and that the abductors had then closed and 
bolted it on the inside and departed through the interior of 
the great building. The kidnapers, he learned, cloaked and 
hooded, were dimly seen in a hallway of the castle by a super- 
stitious servant who mistook them for the ghosts of family 
tradition. 

M. Tchorjevsky was very perplexed and his manner toward 
Frank Roll became cold, even austere. He did not openly ac- 
cuse, yet indirectly and without sufficient reason, he blamed 
him for the delay in recovering the child. 

Whenever Roll would return from an unsuccessful search 
or from running down some false report, he severely criticized 
his son-in-law in ironical language. Thus the two men again 
began to draw apart and a barrier of ice was erected between 
them. 

Marie, several times, accompanied by a servant or two, 
had left the castle and visited isolated sections of the near 
neighborhood in fruitless quests for her son. On some of these 
occasions she had remained away several days and nights, the 
temporary guest of the homes of her father’s friends, without 
exciting unusual anxiety. 


68 


CHAPTER X 


One afternoon her father observed Marie talking with a 
poor woman at the great gate to the grounds. The stranger, he 
thought, was soliciting alms, and he passed on without stop- 
ping. The next day Marie disappeared. She had ridden away 
in a carriage with a single servant. Several days passed and 
she did not return. Her father was in a state of great excite- 
ment and upraided his son-in-law for the latter ’s cool and calm 
self-possession. 

M. Tchorjevsky, after dinner, invited his son-in-law to play 
a game of chess, and Roll coldly joined him in the game. When- 
ever the nobleman would lose his queen he would sarcastically 
offer his opponent a part of his estate for its return. Finally, the 
anger in Roll’s heart leaped into a flame and as he arose from 
the table he exclaimed: “You treat your queen very liber- 
ally! But why have you not paid me for my services? Are 
you insane,, M. Tchorjesky? Hear me, sir! I will serve you 
no longer!” 

Thus enraged M. Tchorjevsky endeavored to grasp Roll by 
the throat, but the German prevented this and restrained the 
infuriated man until, exhausted, he sank into a chair. 

“You will find my daughter and her son or I will kill 
you,” said M. Tchorjevsky when he was able to speak, and 
then he added, ‘ ‘ Tell me the truth ! Did you marry Marie for 
love or for her money?” Then he placed a heavy purse on 
the table. 

Roll did not even glance at the purse but he replied : 

“This is fine treatment — a splendid reward for twelve 
years of slavery.” This rejoinder again infuriated his father- 
in-law who swore great oaths directed to Roll and in the end 
ordered him to immediately leave the castle and to ‘‘get off 
my lands.” Roll turned on his heel and left the room. 

The superintendent went to his apartments and packed a 
small valise with his belongings. Then he wrote a letter to 
Marie. As he passed out of one of the gates he met a watchman 
whom he knew and trusted. 

“I wish you to deliver this note to my wife when she re- 
turns. Tell no one. Keep faith with me. I am going to leave 
here forever.” 

He tossed the old man a coin and the watchman thanked 
him and kissed his hand. He begged the superintendent not 

69 


to leave but the German indignantly passed through the gate 
and strode quickly down the road. 

The watchman in sorrow and bewildered, shouted to the 
house servants, “Master Roll has gone away and he will never 
come back. ’ ’ The other servants ran out of the gate and vain- 
ly shouted to Roll, whose figure was rapidly disappearing. 

M. Tchorjevsky heard the shouting and hurried to the gate 
thinking the cries and confusion were a hearty welcome to 
Marie. 

“What is the matter?” he asked on not observing his 
daughter. 

“M. Roll, our master, has gone forever,” answered the 
weeping watchman. 

M. Tchorjevsky hung his head. He glanced at the old 
servant and saw the note which Roll had written to his wife 
in his shaking hand. He took it and bade the old man light 
his lantern. Then he read : 

“My dear Marie: I have been ordered off this property 
by your father, after a quarrel in which I was repeatedly and 
coarsely insulted. My self-respect will not allow me to re- 
main longer although I am infinitely distressed in going away, 
especially, during your absence. I hope you will return safely 
tonight. 

“Marie, when our child is born name him after me if the 
little one be a son. I send you this message on the wings of 
the Angel of Love. 

“Your father told me I married you for your money. You 
know better, dear. Goodbye until we meet again. Prank.” 

It was now quite dark. A servant who had followed Roll 
down the road reported on his return that his master had van- 
ished far down the road. The nobelman walked back to his 
lonely castle. He spoke to those about him in a strange voice 
and seemed to be spent and broken. He refused food and drink 
and retired to his bed at an early hour. 

M. Tchorjevsky, the next day, organized a party to make 
a thorough search for the missing Marie and her son. Several 
months had elapsed, since William’s disappearance and no 
tangible clue had been found. In his mind he connected the 
disappearance of both his daughter and her boy with the beg- 
ging woman and her appearance at the gate. His first purpose 
was, if possible, to locate the woman. 

The distracted father visited village after village without 
finding any trace of her and finally searched the fields and 

70 


woods. He met a gypsy-band, one day, and knowing its famil- 
iarity with the country he offered anyone of the gypsies ten 
thousand rubles for the recovery of his children. This promise 
he wrote on his personal card and was about to give it to the 
gypsy leader when a woman rushed to the side of his horse 
exclaiming: ‘‘I will tell you for only one thousand rubles!” 
The leader threatened to kill the woman but the irate Pole 
felled him with his whip and ordered his men to tie him to a 
wagon wheel. The keen eyes of the old nobleman had instant- 
ly recognized the woman as the one he had seen talking at 
the gate of the castle to Marie. His servants put the willing 
witness on a horse and the party left the angry and disappoint- 
ed gypsies and rode away. 

CHAPTER XI 

^‘Now,” said M. Tchorjevsky to the woman, “tell me all 
you know.” 

“Well,” she said, “in the first place I am not a gypsy, 
as you should know. Myhusband made his money, good man, 
by passing horses, the gypsies stole, from hand to hand. One 
night two Russian officers came to the gypsy camp and asked 
my husband for the chief. Then all four of them went into an 
old mill not far away. I followed and looking through the 
window — saw them talking to each other and the Russians pay 
gold into the hands of my husband and the chief. They also 
gave them some dark colored cloaks and hoods. As soon as 
the Russian officers rode away I swiftly returned to the camp. 

“The next day my husband gave me some money tied in 
a red handkerchief and told me to keep my mouth closed about 
it. He was busy he said hiding stolen horses. Every night for 
two weeks he went away and on returning told me the same 
story. One night, I followed him and saw him and the gypsy 
chief put on the dark, cloaks and hoods. They rode away in 
the direction of the big Tchorjevsky castle and when they came 
in sight of it they tied their horses in the woods and walked 
on toward the home farm. Then I returned to the camp. 

‘ ‘ That same night later on my husband awoke me and told 
me to go with him to the old mill. When we got there I saw 
a little boy lying on the floor crying. I picked him up and tried 
to please him. Wou remain here,’ ordered my husband, ‘and 
take good care of the boy, ’ and then he walked away. The fol- 
lowing morning two Russian officers came to the mill. They 

71 


were dressed now, in civilian clothes and seemd to be very 
much interested in the boy. 

“ ‘I am now in a position to take vengeance. His mother 
broke her promise to me’,’’ said the larger of the two men. 

“But the other, with a stern face, said, ‘Why not take it 
out on her husband? He killed our friend.’ 

“ ‘Ido not think he was so much to blame for that. More- 
over, he is an honest man and one who works hard and well 
for his living. We should not destroy the body of such an 
admirable character but we will break his heart. But hurry, 
it is forty miles to the little-tree farm in the hills and back. We 
must make the trip as fast as possible without being seen. ’ 

“Then he wrapped the boy in a big blue cape and made a 
signal through the window. My husband, who was on watch 
outside, came in and took the child and afterwards the three 
rode off with the little fellow. When I looked through the 
window they had disappeared into the thick woods. 

“When my husband returned I commanded him to tell 
me the name of the child and why he should help to steal from 
its home and parents an innocent boy. He told me the matter 
was none of my business and violently pushed me to the floor. 
Longer, I think than two months after my husband was taken 
very ill. He was sorry for the way he had treated me and for 
the part he had taken in hiding the little boy. He told me the 
child had been taken from the Tchorjevsky castle.” 

“Tell me next what has become of my daughter, Marie, 
whom you met at the palace gate and then if we find both 
mother and son, you shall have reward,” interrupted M. Tchor- 
jevsky. 

“Yes, my lord, but first let me tell you the boy was taken 
to a little house up in those hills over yonder,” and she pointed 
in the direction of the “little tree farm.” 

The nobleman quickened the pace of his horse and the 
woman’s mount kept at his side. Close behind followed the 
retinue of mounted servants. 

“After my husband’s death,” the woman continued, “the 
gypsy chief beat me and then took my money that was given 
him by the Russians. I was so poor I had to beg for my food 
from the gypsies in camp. I made up my mind I would go to 
the castle and tell all I knew. I thought the boy’s friends 
would reward me. 

“After several attempts, as you seem to know, my lord, 
I met the lady. I told her the boy was alive and that if she 

72 


would pay me I would lead her to the place where he was hid- 
den. She gave me one hundred rubles and then told me to 
meet her the next morning outsid the gates near an old aban- 
doned stable. She came in a carriage and with the driver and 
none other. I jumped in and we were driven to the little house 
over there. The driver and the lady entered the house and 
left me outside. Soon I heard screams and a shot. Fearing 
for my own life, I drove the carriage by trails I knew through 
the woods to the gypsy camp. 

“ ‘Where did you get these?’ asked the chief looking at 
the splendid animals. 

“ ‘I stole them,’ I answered. 

“ ‘Bravo,’ he cried, clapping his hands, ‘you are the only 
woman in this band who has ever stolen a horse.’ 

‘ ‘ Then he kissed me and gave me a ruble and a nice dinner 
and a dance to the band in my honor. ’ ’ 

By this time M. Tchorjevsky ’s party had come abreast of 
the house in the hills. He ordered his men to surround the 
house which he and two others entered. Inside, they found 
an old woman. She refused to tell anything but being threat- 
ened with hanging she said a boy had been brought to the 
house by two masked men in the absence of her husband and 
that she had been given a large sum of money to care for him 
as her own child and that her husband on the next day would 
give her further instructions. 

The old hag with more or less dissembling related that 
when her husband came to the house the next evening he asked 
for the money and she gave it to him. “ ‘ We will take the child 
and give it good care. I think he will be here sometime. He 
belongs to a rich and noble Polish family. Be very happy. 
He will make our fortune.’ Never since that time has any one 
come here for the boy.” 

“You lie, you old beast! My daughter has been here. 
Look,” and M, Tchorjevsky pointed to the cloak Marie had 
worn when she left the castle and which one of the servants 
had taken from a trunk in the room. “Here is a garment she 
wore! Beware, woman! Do not lie or you will suffer.” 

The old creature dropped to her knees and muttered, 
“Spare my life and I will tell all I know.” 

“When all of us, my husband, the boy and myself were 
at supper several days ago, a carriage drove up to the house. 
My husband quieted the dogs and asked, ‘What is wanted?’ 
‘We are travelers,’ replied a lady’s voice. ‘May I have a 

73 


glass of water?’ Then she and the driver came from the 
carriage toward the door. There was another lady but she 
sat in the carriage. My husband started outside to otfer the 
lady a glass of water but both she and the servant pushed 
quickly through the door. When she saw the little fellow 
she screamed, ‘My baby, my baby! Thank God, I’ve found 
my darling.’ She clasped the boy in her arms and fell to the 
floor still laughing and crying, ‘My baby! my baby!’ 

“My husband drew his revolver but the driver was too 
quick for him and shot my man through the head. When the 
driver saw his mistress in a faint he ran away. The next day 
my husband was buried. ’ ’ 

“I do not care about that ! My daughter, woman, what of 
her?” 

“My God, master, I cannot tell. The spirit of my dead 
husband warns me to say nothing ! ’ ’ 

“Tell or I fire,” cried M. Tchorjevsky, beside himself 
and leveling his enormous pistol. 

“My lord,” eagerly screamed the woman, “your daughter, 
my lord, your daughter will soon become a mother. She 
went mad the first night she came here and ran away with 
her boy. She roams these hills and canyons half-clad and holding 
her little one by the hand. She will not talk to any one and 
has torn and thrown her clothes away. She is crazy my lord. 
Go find her. ’ ’ 

M. Tchorjevsky dispairing of securing more definite in- 
formation left the house. Remounting his horse, and followed 
by his retainers, he commenced a search of the nearby country. 
In a narrow field or pasture some distance from the old hag’s 
house, the party came upon a shepherd boy tending his flocks. 
The anxious seekers put to him the oft repeated query, “Have 
you seen or heard of a strange lady and a little boy here- 
abouts?” and were overjoyed when the boy nodded his head. 
“I know the lady. She is queer. I play sometimes with the 
boy and take them both milk and fruit!” A servant quickly 
raised the lad to M. Tchorjevsky ’s saddle. The old nobleman 
spoke to him kindly and slipped into his hands a number of 
jingling coins. The child, at first alarmed, turned and smiled 
in the eager face of the old man. “Yes! Yes! I will show you,” 
and he dug his tiny heels in the sides of M. Tchorjevsky ’s 
horse. The boy led the seekers to a rocky canyon where he 
slid off the horse and pointed. M. Tchorjevsky and his servants 
followed the lad’s direction to a shallow cavern and here the 


74 


old nobleman, almost overcome with grief and joy, espied 
Marie. 

She was stripped of most of her clothing. Her hair 
streamed down her back and she would neither look at nor 
speak to anyone. 

Her father’s heart was bursting with grief. His sobs 
choked him and his strong iron-like frame quivered. 

‘‘Marie, my child, do you not know your father — it is I, 
your papa ! ’ ’ But Marie made no answer nor would she look at 
him, but William, when he had released his hand from his 
mother’s tight grasp, ran and jumped in his grand-father’s 
arms and kissed him. Marie ran after him shrieking “my baby ! 
my baby!” and struggled with her father for the possession 
of the frightened child until she fell to the ground, unconscious. 

After she was wrapped and bundled in shawls, her father 
himself, bound Marie to his own stout and sure-footed horse 
and mounting another he sadly commenced, probably the sad- 
dest journey of his life, to his home and castle. 

CHAPTER XII 

Madame Roll did not recover her mind on arriving at her 
home but remained for a time irrational and at times unman- 
ageable. A consultation of physicians summond from Kiev de- 
cided that her collapse was due to prolonged grief and her 
delicate condition. Brain fever superinduced by a violent fall 
resulted in temporary insanity. When her fever was reduced 
the physicians decided upon a singular course of treatment, and 
one entitled, by reason of its success and novelty, to a place 
on these pages. 

Madame Roll was shown the limp form of little William, 
who had been drugged, and told the child was dead. She 
closed her eyes as tremor after tremor of grief passed over her. 
At first, she did not seem to understand clearly but gradually 
realized the full meaning of what had been told her and burst 
into tears. For a long time she wept and when, at last ex- 
hausted, fell asleep. She awoke and, although dazed, her mind 
was completely clear and she recognized everyone. She mani- 
fested the greatest happiness and tenderness when William, 
smiling and loving, bent over to kiss and embrace his mother. 
Marie’s mental recovery was rapid yet she never could remem- 
ber when or how she reached the “little tree house.” 

One of the first questions asked by Madame Roll during 
her convalescence was about her husband. She wished to know 


75 


where he was and insisted on being told the cause of his pro- 
tracted absence. Her father not wishing, of course, to tell her 
the truth fearing, if he did so, serious consequences to her deli- 
cate health, replied that Roll was in Warsaw attending to busi- 
ness affairs and that he would not return for two or three 
months. 

Madame Roll was much perplexed and grieved over her 
husband’s absence. She could not understand why he did not 
write to her and send some message of anxious love. Her 
father made innumerable plausible excuses and because Ma- 
dame Roll did not doubt her husband’s fidelity and affection 
these excueses for a time appeased her inquiring mind. 

Longer than three months after her dramatic rescue from 
William ’s captors, a baby boy was born to Madame Roll. There 
was much quiet joy in the castle and M. Tchorjevsky gaily 
felicitated his daughter. When she was able to go abroad and 
take the air she frequently would stand or loiter about the 
gates and glancing up and down the main highway would sor- 
rowfully wonder at the silence and absence of her husband. On 
one of these occasions she observed the old watchman or gate- 
keeper to whom Roll had given his last hastily written message 
to his wife. She saw the old man fumbling with a coin at- 
tached to a cord he wore about his throat and muttering words 
she could not understand. 

‘‘Why do you talk to that coin?” she inquired and in an- 
swering the inquiry the old man related the circumstances of 
Roll’s departure and the forcible detention by his master of 
the husband’s letter to his wife. “This piece of money he gave 
me as he went away,” he concluded, “and I will keep it until 
he comes back,” and he kissed the coin dangling from his neck. 

Madame Roll made the man repeat over and over again 
his painful story. Satisfied he was exact and telling the truth 
she hurried to the castle and met her father near a fountain in 
the garden. Almost fiercely she upbraided him, charging him 
with a cruel deception, with the theft of her sacred letter and 
with the basest of ingratitude. 

M. Tchorjevsky endeavored to pacify her but she would 
not patiently listen to him. “You have my message and my 
husband is gone, cruelly driven from this house by you. Give 
me my letter!” she demanded. 

“Roll married you for your money,” sternly replied her 
father, “but,” he grimly added, “he will get nothing from me. 
I have so arranged it. William, Capt. Tchorjevsky ’s boy, shall 

76 


inherit everything,” and he swung his arm around in a circle 
which was meant to include all of his great properties. 

“My husband loves me dearly,” sobbed Madame Roll, 
^ ‘ and I will go out in the world and never stop searching until 
I find him.” 

She turned away but the nobleman realizing the force of 
her determination seized her by the hand and forcibly led her 
into the castle. As they passed through the great hall, in which 
Roll had so valiantly defended his honor to the death of his 
assailant, Marie asked her father if he did not recall how her 
husband had sworn to protect with his life the person and honor 
of his wife? 

“Be careful, my father, for I assure you Frank Roll will 
sternly keep that oath, cost what it may. ’ ’ 

M. Tchorjevsky dropped her hand and stood for a moment 
in deep thought. A great struggle was taking place in the old 
man’s mind in which honor and right coped with injustice and 
a stubborn will. The right asserted itself and he walked to 
his safe and returning with Roll’s letter placed it in the eager 
hands of his daughter, who when she had read dropped on her 
knees and grasping her father’s hands implored him to send 
for her absent husband. “Send for him, father, that he may 
see me and our infant son. Remember, Frank was true to you 
and your affairs for twelve yong years. ’ ’ 

Her father lifted Marie to her feet and promised to use 
every effort to secure the return of his son-in-law. At once, 
he called the major domo, gave him money and ordered him to 
send a party of men over the country to locate the whereabouts 
of Roll. The men departed but after weeks and weeks 
of travel they returned singly or in groups with the same 
story, “Nothing has been seen or heard of M. Roll.” 

These were heart-breaking days for the lonely wife and 
only the prettiness of her babe and the manly affection and 
conduct of young William kept the weary mother’s hopes alive. 
She lived in a condition of suspense and was always trying to 
banish from her mind tragical thoughts and glimpses of deeds 
which were of her own imagining. Was her husband dead or 
alive ? and if alive why did he not send some message ? 

Thus two long, dull and weary years elapsed. Every day 
as the servants passed through the palace gardens they saw 
Marie at a window, looking over the drive to the great 
gate, holding her younger son in her arms, her eyes ever turned 
in the direction of the low plains and sombre rocky hills. 

77 


CHAPTER XIII 

About two years after the abrupt departure of Frank Roll 
from the castle its lord received a letter from the absent man, 
and to his great astonishment. Roll wrote that he had been fight- 
ing in the Russian army against the Turks and that after the 
battle of Sebastopol he had been given a six months’ furlough. 
He had attained to a high rank in the Russian army. He wrote to 
ask permission to return to the castle to visit his wife and in- 
fant whom he hoped was a boy. The letter contained an affec- 
tionate message to Madame Roll. 

Marie was on the point of swooning when her father con- 
veyed to her this welcome news and she at once besought him 
to dispatch horses and servants for one whom she had often 
thought was lost to her forever. The messangers were sent 
bearing to Roll the news of his little son’s birth and many 
happy wishes from his wife. The couriers presented themselves 
to General Prank Roll in Sebastopol. In answer to his first in- 
quiry the servants said : 

“When we last saw Madame Roll she was at a window 
overlooking the road, knitting a tiny sweater and kissing it 
from time to time.” 

The wanderer speedily returned and was greeted with 
great joy by all of the members of the family and others of the 
household. His wife after embracing him shyly conducted him 
to the nursery and pointed out to him the curly-head of his 
sleeping son. She was brilliant with happiness and awaking 
the boy placed him in the arms of his proud father and then 
merrily laughed when the little fellow pulled at his heavy 
moustache. Her father’s reception was dignified and court- 
eous. He complimented his son-in-law pn his promotion to the 
rank of a Russian general and said in the presence of his 
daughter, “such promotions are won by hard fighting and 
strict attention to military duty. ’ ’ 

During the elaborate private dinner which followed Roll’s 
return his father-in-law became quite genial. He sent for 
young William who greeted his step-father with affection. The 
major-domo and his trusted assistants, including the aged gate- 
keepers, were called to present their greetings to the soldier. 
Occasionally Mrs. Roll would leave the table, after pressing the 
hand of her husband, and say, “I realy must go to Frank for 
a moment in the nursery,” just as if the youngster were not 
safely guarded by his nurse and other attendants. She in- 

78 


tended that this pretty display of maternal solicitude should 
please her husband and it did, immensely. 

M. Tchorjevsky insisted upon recital of his son-in-law’s 
adventures and Roll replied by a description some scenes and 
incidents attending his wanderings. 

FURTHER MEMOIRS OF FRANK ROLL 
CHAPTER XIV 

I will inform you now of some of the incidents of my ex- 
periences during the first months of my absence from the castle. 
If Monsieur Tchorjevsky will pardon, I will say that the in- 
sinuations, made, in my presence and abroad, affecting my hon- 
or grew before I left here, unbearable. These had continued 
over a period of twelve years. That they were the efforts of 
a systematic persecution abetted by persons quite innocent, 
both of their origin and purpose, I do not doubt. I have never 
thought my honorable father-in-law ever believed me guilty of 
the crimes imputed to me, save at intervals, when he was in- 
fluenced by combinations of manufactured circumstance. I 
have been conscious, ever, that my destiny does not include the 
lasting shame of disgrace and that time would make all things 
clear. 

Nevertheless, I was broken in spirit the day I departed. 
When I made up my mind to leave I also concluded that I 
would make no attempt to break up the family associations of 
my dear wife or to remove her from comfort and culture to be- 
come the companion of a husband without a fortune or a home. 
And feeling and thinking thus, I alone, left, and faced the 
future. 

In my written memoirs will be found in detail a full ac- 
count of my travels and my adventures. Since leaving I have 
visited parts of Persia, Arabia, Bulgaria, Syria and Tartary I 
have followed many occupations and made many strange char- 
acters my friends and acquaintances. I have learned to speak 
and write a number of languages and tribal dialects. I have 
been possessed of large sums of money, jewels, ivory and rare 
objects only to lose them as quickly as they were acquired or to 
return them to their real owners. I have witnessed scenes so 
strange they appeared to be the work of devils and also of 
angels. Thousands of persons believed them the manifestations 
of the super-natural, the creations of gods. I have witnessed 

79 


the soldiers of the Czar, the cruel Cossacks, perpetrate out- 
rages so vile and heartless it seemed to me that hell itself had 
belched forth these demons to defile and torture the poor and 
the oppressed. I have watched with astonishment the despic- 
able conduct of the rich and the aristocratic whose minds and 
hearts were without mercy, love and honor, and I have seen, 
in a wild, almost unknown country, magnificent temples erect- 
ed to an idol and false gods by a debased people. 

These primitives could be led by licentious priests to enter 
into orgies with enthusiasm and to participate. in human sac- 
rifices, in an ecstatic exhaltation of spirit. 

I had for a traveling companion for some time a hopeless- 
ly crippled Tartar. He was, when with me, an absolutely fear- 
less man capable of enduring many hardships and a ^‘dead 
shot” with gun or pistol. I met this Tartar in a Cossack prison 
on the border of Tartary. We had been made prisoners for 
aiding the people after a border revolution. In a successful 
escape from the Cossacks’ guards, I was shot slightly in the arm 
but my companion hobbled along with me unharmed. This 
man with a crippled leg and arm had slain two Cossacks fight- 
ing him at close quarters, his only weapon being a billet of 
wood. He stripped the soldiers of their pistols and an old style 
Persian gun and a large quantity of ammunition. Other pow- 
der and additional bullets we took from the dead in the prison 
yard for we were enabled to escape during the excitement at- 
tending a prison insurrection. 

We plunged through the nearby woods and continued to 
go deeper and deeper into the forest. Cossacks followed us for 
several days but we contrived to elude them and to finally 
reach a hidden place of safety on the third day following the 
prison break. 

After resting our weary, blistered feet we started from the 
leopard’s cave in which we had slept, in quest of food and 
water. We early came to a rude habitation, one of a dozen or 
more grouped together in a tiny village. We were welcomed, 
given food and treated with the utmost kindness. ^Hf all Tar- 
tars were as these there would be no Cossacks,” I thought. The 
villagers told us to keep to the southeast and that within sev- 
eral hours’ travel we would come to a village and farther on 
to a temple. There we might find not only refreshment but 
information concerning the country through which we were 
travelling. 


80 


CHAPTER XV 

At the second village were many women and girls, some 
of them strikingly handsome. All of them, however, appeared 
to me to be melancholy and on some faces I plainly read de- 
jection and hopelessness. We discovered that many of these 
women were really maids and we found them wandering in the 
woods, chanting mournful songs or hymns. All of the people 
were dark skinned. The complexion of the women was a trifle 
lighter than that of the men and their features and eyes were, 
in many instances, beautiful. The figures of the maidens in the 
woods, clad in scant skins and other raiment were superb. 
Their picturesque appearance was enhanced by the natural 
decorations they wore on their heads and affixed to their hair. 
These wild floral specimens included garlands of leaves, which, 
when bruised, emitted an intoxicating aroma. 

This was one of the most interesting stretches of woodland 
I ever saw. Great oaks abounded and some of them by reason 
of the peculiar growth of their trunks looked like grotesque, 
gnarled statues of men. These huge oaks formed the sides of 
vistas, seemingly endless, lined with kneeling or stooping men, 
with a faint glimmer beyond of the sky. Interspersed with the 
oaks were plantations of white poplars gracefully bending 
their foliage until it mingled with the topmost leaves of the 
oaks. There were a few pine or other trees immensely tall and 
of great girth. They perfumed the air and beneath them were 
spread couches of needles covered with brown cones. 

Vines of vivid greenish color, decked with tiny white bell- 
shaped flowers, were festooned in the branches of the oaks. 
The floor of the forest was an immense field of grassy sod 
which restfully sank beneath the pressure of one’s foot. The 
absence of bush and brush and dead wood was very noticeable. 

Despite its beauty the woods seemed unhappy and sad. I 
heard no birds singing and saw no animals as we entered this 
really mystical spot, although, subsequently, near the temple 
grounds we were to become acquainted with lions, baboons, 
and monkies. The sunlight was vanishing from the aisle of 
trees and the atmosphere was cool and damp. The forest was 
slowly being wrapped in a mantle of gray. One gleam of glor- 
ious sunshine might have wonderfully brightened this sombre 
wood and transformed its dumb spectres into pleasant shapes. 

It must have been ten o’clock of a starlit night when we 
came to a large clearing, elliptical in form. Running from end 
to end on a terraced elevation was a high wall composed of 

81 


to the parent structure. Stone steps and balustrades, ornately 
huge stones. At its end, this wall was continued at right angles 
chiseled, led up to the main entrance or portal from the top 
terrace, which was reached by smaller steps in a succession of 
stone stairways. The main entrance was made of Persian arch- 
itecture and opened into the vestibule of the temple. There 
were lesser doors, of some scented wood, on either side — the 
central one being made of teek inlaid with ivory. Beneath the 
principal steps were heavy doors, cleverly concealed, to the 
subterranean vaults and corridors beneath the floor of the 
temple. The latter was built of slabs of granite. The ediflce 
had no roof but the sky and the rear was entirely open to the 
clearing and to the woods beyond. 

On the temple floor were several sacrificial altars of stone 
and in a corner near a door of the vestibule was a room en- 
tirely enclosed within silken walls covered with tapestry. The 
interior was richly furnished. I hesitate to describe it. I have 
never seen as many beautiful objects in polished woods, gold, 
silver, copper, ivory and mother of pearl grouped together as 
were included in this luxurious chamber. All of them were 
made in unique and Asiatic designs. Persian rugs and Siberian 
furs covered the floor and the several golden couches were 
drapped in blue silk of delicate tint covered with snow-white, 
filmy lace. On the shelves of a cabaret, fashioned of gold, 
silver and rosewood, reposed goblets which in the light of the 
twinkling stars and swinging lamps sparkled like jewels and, 
also, there were rich decanters filled with liquors and wines. 

We replaced the silken and embroidered portieres to that 
sumptuous apartment and quickly but softly approached the 
lower end or rear of the temple floor. As we neared it, I heard 
indistinctly the murmur of voices and the low chanting of 
women recalling the maidens ’ chorus I had heard in the woods, 
and saw the reflected glow of a fire. At the end of this floor 
and on either side a stairway of stone steps covered with nar- 
row red rugs led to the ground. We softly walked to the top- 
most step and looking immediately below, between the stair- 
ways, saw a magnificent throne covered with red velvet. 
Beyond the temple, in the center of the park-like space I be- 
held a vision which froze the blood in my veins and yet fills 
me with indescribable horror. 

(Here Frank Roll, breathing heavily, asked for a glass of 
wine. When he was refreshed and had regained his compos- 
ure he went on.) 


82 


CHAPTER XYI 

This so-called place of worship, really the scene of repeated 
barbaric fanacticisms with their attendant cruelties and abom- 
inations, was one of several similar structures in that part of 
Tartary. Tradition, credited and believed by the deluded vil- 
lagers in its neighborhood, said the temple had been erected 
in one night, between darkness and dawn. So far as these poor 
creatures knew it had ever been as jt was now. I had no way 
of determining its age but believed the structure had been 
erected for, possibly, a century. The country thereabouts is 
rich in building stone of which granite forms a considerable 
part, as well as in petroleum. Nearly all of the metals, in- 
cluding gold, silver and copper are found. Diamonds and 
other precious stones are also undoubtedly found in a small vol- 
canic section a few miles from this place of awful torture and 
hideous superstition. The ceremonies, a part of which I will 
describe, were of Asiatic origin and, in detail, resembled the 
Thibtetan pagan worship and suggested certain rites, at one 
time common to Hindoo social and religious life. 

The chief priest, at this particular temple, was dark as a 
Hindoo and was cleverly robed to carry out the part of a 
mystic. The attendant priests I thought were natives to the 
country and all were old men. Over this Tartar state ruled a 
king who was well aware of the terrible fraud practiced upon 
the natives. The amount of valuable treasure thrown to the 
burning idol god of the temple was enormous and included all 
sorts of rich gifts each representing a genuine sacrifice. These 
offerings formed a large monthly revenue for king and chief 
priest. It is thus that superstition retards^ the civilization of 
the world and fills the coffers of corrupt authority. Both my 
companion and myself had good reasons for believing that, just 
prior to the monthly sacrifices, the magnificently appointed 
apartment on the temple floor was the scene of a disgusting 
debauch in which maidens, the priests, and the king 
participated. 

CHAPTER XVII 

The horrifying vision I saw was an idol representing a 
god of fire placed in a deep circular basin over a fire-bed fed 
with petroleum. This figure I believe to have been made of 
copper. A tremendous horn issued from its head. Its arms 
were extended over the flames and the fingers pointed to the 
encircling crowd. From its sides and breasts hung long red- 

83 


dish copper tentacles as perfect in appearance as the tentacles 
of a devil-fish. As I looked I saw that the copper surface of 
the idol in several places was red hot. The god’s face in the 
glare of the light was repulsive and satanic. With every 
change of the leaping flames his expression changed, now 
fiercely dominant and commanding and then deadly and dull. 
In front of the big basin of burning petroleum in which the 
fire-god stood, a pyre of fagots had been made for a victim, 
then living. Beside this place of burning immolation a priest 
wearing a long beard and entirely nude crouched silent and 
motionless. In his hands he held an unlighted torch and a 
large cup. 

Discordant noises made by men pounding on stretched 
skins and by other primitive instruments announced the arrival 
of the king and his Tartar following. All of these were men. 
The king came out of the woods seated on a platform borne 
by his most distinguished captives. The corners of his convey- 
ance were lashed to the necks of the bearers. Each of the 
Tartars in this royal party rode on the shoulders of a male 
slave. They marched around the statue profoundly bowing. 

The music grew furious and the shouting of delirious peo- 
ple standing in the edge of the woods louder, wilder and more 
incoherent. The ruler was followed by a large number of wor- 
shippers, who deposited gold, silver and precious jewels at the 
feet of the god. These contributions of idolatry formed a huge 
pile which, at the conclusion of the march, was gathered into 
a tiger skin and laid at the feet of the high priest. This func- 
tionary, during the progress of the night’s events, frequently 
lifted his hands to heaven as if in prayer but I observed he 
quite ignored the god. Not so the king and his suite. When 
the ruler of these misguided subjects ascended his throne he 
made a profound obeisance to the sputtering counterfeit as did 
his Tartar henchmen, whereupon the entire audience, fell to 
its knees and touched the earth with its forehead, as one man. 

“Hist,” said the Tartar softly, “we must go or be dis- 
covered. These devils are about to burn some one. Come. We 
will get nearer the fire and hide more securely. See what a 
load of jewels is there.” 

We left the temple, retracing our footsteps. Once out of 
the structure we followed a circuitous route in the woods un- 
til we reached a point immediately to the right of the fire- 
god. Between us and the edge of the place of the ceremonies 
was a canyon some thirty or forty feet in depth. Its sides 

84 


were steep and cluttered with stone. A few scrub oaks or im- 
mature trees grew in this ravine. Here, we were not more than 
a hundred feet from the flaming oil and from our place of con- 
cealment the entire panorama was visible. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

Suddenly, the Tartar said it was at midnight, we heard a 
voice shouting in the wood. It was the loudest and most bois- 
terous voice I had ever heard, and at its roar monkeys leaped 
from branch to branch of the trees which fringed the place. 
Solemn-faced baboons entered the clearing and walked se- 
dately among the worshippers. From afar, came the howling 
of wolves and the sullen rumblings of a lion’s anger. Immense 
serpents uncoiled themselves and raising their heads peered 
out of the trees; others hung from stout branches, swaying 
back and forth in space, their open mouths disclosing fangs 
and forked tongues. A panic-stricken tiger rushed over a 
far corner of the park knocking off their feet a half-hundred 
or more of the votaries and then vanished, bounding into the 
woods. The distant bleating of sheep and goats and the cries 
of domestic fowls and animals came faintly to our ears. 

I shivered with dread as I saw and heard. Again the 
sounds of that terrible voice reverberated through the woods 
and over the park and the figure of a tremendous Hindoo 
leaped into the open space and made his way to the idol. He 
was a magnificent creature. His long hair was adorned with 
soft, snowy plumes. Around his neck was a chain, of alter- 
nating gold and ivory links, and binding his ankles and wrists, 
gleamed broad bands of gold. His body, save for the cloth 
with which his loins were girded, was naked. As he leaped 
and rand and walked about the idol he clapped his hands. 
For a moment he ceased his gesticulations and raising his arms 
above his head, emitted from his bulky chest a shout as loud 
and far-reaching as the bellowing of a passionate bull. As the 
echoes died away, there trooped, from beneath the king’s 
throne, twelve young women. The first of these wore fan- 
tastic, yet beautiful adornments. The symmetry of her figure 
revealed the perfection of female physical grace and beauty. 
She wore a short skirt made of delicate feathers of brilliant 
hues, plucked from rare birds of plumage. Above this her 
waist was bound in an ornamental belt of engraved reddish 
gold. Like the giant Hindoo she too wore anklets and wristlets, 

85 


but the girl’s bands were studded with precious stones, so 
brilliant the circlets looked as rings of fire. Her hands and 
feet were bare but in her hair wild fiowers were entwined and 
on her head was a garland of grape leaves. Attached to her 
waist was a large, living venomous snake, spotted with red, 
gold and black. 

The snake was twisted around her form over her bust 
and again through her hair and over the top of her head where 
it was securely fastened. The serpent’s head hung over her 
forehead in such a position its glittering eyes and opened jaws 
were ever before the victim’s eyes. This symbol of sin was in a 
fury. Twist and turn its head as it would, it could not strike, 
but vented its anger in hissing in the ears of the girl. As soon 
as the victim appeared, the Hindoo rushed to her and stooping 
low seized her ankles tightly in his great palms. At a sign, 
she stiffened her body and the black Hercules raised her quick- 
ly far above his head. Holding her in this position he danced 
around the idol followed by the remaining eleven girls, one of 
whom, including tonight ’s sacrifice, was to be cremated during 
each month of the year. The maids were practically nude. 
They wore white flowers in their dark hair which, unloosened, 
the night winds transformed into shifting veils and soft drap- 
ery. Each carried in her hand a spotless, white feather. 

Placing the victim on the ground the Hindoo and she pro- 
ceeded to lead a dance, which was a half-promenade. The route 
of this procession led around the idol and thence wound its 
serpentine way through the people. The girls acted, to me, 
like persons moving in a dream yet conscious of their surround- 
ings. I imagine that opium addicts act very much as these poor 
creatures did. The girl, to die this night, was making an heroic 
effort to keep her feet. Her carriage was superb. The Hindoo, 
handsome as a Greek athlete, kept the avenue of the march 
Open and pushed aside the obstructing forms of kneeling and 
weeping men and women. 

When the head of this tragical procession reached a point 
near the temple and mid-way between the sacrificial altar and 
the high priest, the Hindoo seized the maiden by the shoulders 
in a gentle way and dexterously whirled her around so rapidly 
her feet were lifted from the ground. He as quickly stopped the 
revolving body and both faced the priest who raised his hands 
over the head of the girl and then slowly pointed to the pyre. 
The Hindoo leaped forward and took the girl, who had at last 
succumbed and seemed as lifeless as a bronze statue, to the 

86 


altar. He carried her as tenderly as a mother does an infant. 

In the center of the pyre, which was constructed of inflam- 
mable material through which were scattered green cuttings 
for the purpose of creating pungent fumes and gray dense 
smoke, was a metallic stake. The pyre was at least twenty feet 
in length and its walls were more than half that distance in 
thickness. It was scientifically made, with open channels or 
flues, arranged so the fire would burn not quickly, but slowly. 
Leading up to the stake was an open trail and through this 
the limp form of the Tartar maiden was carried. 
The eleven girls, prospective sacrifices, took their places around 
the pyre and chanted a mournful dirge. The old priest arose 
from his crouching positon, walked to the basin in which the 
fire-god stood and filled the cup he carried with oil. He light- 
ed his torch and slowly moved toward the pyre. The idol ap- 
parently looked upon the scene with a satanic smile. 

CHAPTER XIX 

‘^This is more than I can endure,’’ I said to the cripple. 

“Be quiet, master,” he replied roughly. “If we interfere 
now we will surely be killed. The priests and the temple guards 
will certainly murder us. Beneath the king’s throne, is the 
rear entrance to the vaults and the rooms beneath the temple’s 
floor and to the quarters of the novitiates. Presently the king, 
the priests, that big Hindoo, who is worth twenty men in a fight, 
and the girls with white feathers will leave the grounds and 
pass into the temple. No one will be left to witness the sacri- 
fice but the crowd. If we canfuse them by firing your Persian 
blunderbuss and my pistols we may managed to save the girl 
before the flames have done her much injury. I am a Tartar 
and know something of this ceremony, which was managed 
for the people, who have already made their gifts. It is only 
the treasure the king and the priests are now interested in. 
Wait.” 

The Hindoo bound the maid’s feet to the stake. He was 
standing on the earth very close to her and his broad shoulders 
and head towered several feet above her limp form. He tied 
the hands of the unconscious girl and stepped in front of her 
and, as if moved by pity or possibly a desire to see whether 
the victim was dead or in a faint, he reached out his hand to 
lift her drooping head. As his fingers were about to touch the 
girl’s forehead, the serpent twisted about her hair, quick 

87 


as the flash of an electric spark, struck and sank his venomous 
fangs so deep in the palm of the Hindoo’s hand he could not 
for a moment release it. Finally, he tore the member away al- 
most severing as he did so the neck of the now dying snake. He 
held up his bleeding and torn hand to the high priest and to the 
king, to see. They stared at him speechless. 

Suddenly the Hindoo clutched at his heart, stooped and 
quickly wrenched one of the large fagots from the bottom of 
the pyre, a stick some four feet in length. With the agility 
of a wild deer, he leaped from the altar across the sod to where 
the high priest stood paralyzed with fear. In a second the 
Hindoo had crushed the pretender’s head with a single blow 
of his deadly bludgeon. He then leaped to the throne and 
fatally beating and throwing to one side the half-dozen priests 
he furiously smashed the king’s head into a bony, bloody pulp. 
Then quickly turning about he made for the priestly attendant 
who already had thrown his cup of oil over the mass of wood. 
The priest turned and, with astonishing calmness, awaited the 
rush of the maddened savage. The latter stopped and then 
hurled his club at the aged form. His aim was untrue and the 
fagot, travelling in quick circles, hurtled by the old man’s head. 
In a second, the giant was upon him and with titanic strength 
he picked upon the yielding body and by a quick movement of 
his hands and a terrific swelling of his chest he broke the neck 
of the priest and tossed the convulsive body upon the ground. 

The venom of the serpent was already telling upon the 
powerful body of the Hindoo. He darted from one side to an- 
other, uncertainly, and then invaded the panic stricken crowds. 
The girls in white and the few remaining priests had rushed 
to the entrance to the vaults of the temple under the throne and 
taken refuge behind bolted doors. Many of the worshippers 
had disappeared in the woods. Those who were left, appeared 
to be bereft of their senses and unable to fly from the dreadful 
scene. But when this half-blind avenging figure actually ap- 
proached them they awoke from their lethargy and scattered 
and, screaming as they ran, vanished into the woods. 

The giant was now foaming at the mouth and one arm 
was paralyzed. His erect figure was stooped as he ran and he 
reeled and stumbled over the trampled sod in a narrowing 
circle. Sometimes he would halt and with his remaining arm and 
hand fiercely strike at an invisible foe. He leaped up and 
down aimlessly as a child does at play. He reached the smok- 
ing, slowly-burning altar, stumbling over the body of the slain 

88 


priest. He put out his hand and touched the fagots and then 
drawing back with a weak yell, he struck the mass a blow with 
his head. The shock threw him to the ground where, writhing 
in agony — his limbs feebly beating the sod and the empty air, 
before the sardonic face of the fire-god, he died. 

CHAPTER XX 

Through the smoke and fire issuing from the pyre we 
could discern, at frequent intervals, the unconscious form of 
the maid and the mangled head and throat of the dead serpent. 
The petroleum had almost burned out at the feet of the idol but 
his copper body still glowed in that darkening hour. The place 
of sacrifice was quite deserted. Over near the bloody throne, 
where reposed in their last sleep the forms of a half-dozen or 
more guards and priests, including the king and the head of 
the temple, we saw the tiger skin holding the treasure gathered 
during the ceremonial. 

“It is time now,” said the Tartar. “You get the girl. T 
will take the tiger skin.” 

“You had better come with me and help save the girl. She 
is of more value, than gold or ivory.” 

“ No, ” he replied, ‘ ‘ I will get the skin. Then we shall see. ’ ^ 

It was the first time since our escape from prison that 
we had at all differed. 

“Very well, go!” I replied sternly. He crawled down the 
bank of the canyon and I with my clumsy Persian gun and big 
pistols followed. We crossed the narrow floor and I observed 
running water. Then we clambered up the opposite side and 
when we reached the top I hid my gun. Then we separated. 
Beyond the artificial light, the morning was dark. The Tartar 
was soon lost in the deep shadows. 

I approached the pyre. By using great care I contrived to 
throw aside the burning wood. The flames were yet several 
feet from the insensible form of the girl. Her skiibt of feathers 
was just beginning to feel the heat and sent out an unmistak- 
able odor. I worked faster and soon was at her side. The 
fumes of the smoke were choking me and I could scarcely see. 
I removed the disgusting serpent from the maid’s body and cut 
the wet thongs which bound her hands and feet. I seized her 
in my arms to prevent her from falling to the earth. 

“Speak to me, a friend,” I said. She opened her eyes, 
sighed, and without a word closed them again. I thanked God 

89 


she was alive after such an experience. I knew the poor child 
was not conscious of being on earth. 

I started down the canyon’s side at the place where I 
had hidden my gun. When I reached the bottom I found the 
springs and removing rocks and pebbles arranged a rude rest- 
ing place. It was very dark down there. No light, save a 
few stars placidly shining in the sky above us. I washed the 
helpless one’s face and bathed her hands and feet. She shiv- 
ered and I threw my coat over her. ‘^See if you cannot go to 
sleep,” I whispered. She seemed to understand, but, before 
closing her eyes she looked around and put out her hands in 
every direction. ‘‘0, little one,” I said, ‘‘there is no fire and 
no horrid snakes here ! ’ ’ and then she fell asleep like a tired 
child. 

Slowly I made my way to the top of the opposite side of 
the canyon and looked around. The idol was visible 
only when the light of the altar flamed and the smoke had 
flown before the cool, early morning wind. I peered through 
the shadows toward the temple to where I had last seen the 
treasure, and softly, with both pistols drawn, ready for prompt 
use, moved in that direction. Gradually, the stooped form of a 
man bending over the tiger’s skin became distinguishable and 
as I advanced I recognized the crippled Tartar. His back was 
turned on the king’s throne and he was intent on arranging 
the valuable gifts, dully glimmering in the sombre light. I 
then saw a second form stealthily stealing over the sod. This, 
too, was the figure of a man and in his hands he carried a 
heavy bar of polished metal. Silently as the coming of the 
dawn, he glided to the busy Tartar and raising the bar above 
his head he brought it swiftly down upon the head and should- 
ers of the marauder. The cripple sank to the ground his head 
fractured and his back broken. I ran forward and covered 
the erect figure of my companion’s slayer with both pistols 
thrust against his breast. I recognized him from his command- 
ing figure, snow-white hair and bearing, and from his costly 
garb as one of the priests who had, during the ceremonies sat on 
the throne near the king. He was indeed, the keeper of the 
temple and its treasure. 

‘ ‘ This man had no right to steal and I killed him, ’ ’ he said 
in a low, even voice and in excellent Russian. 

“It is true,” I said and lowered my pistols. 

“I saw you take the girl Aida away. Is she dead?” he 
asked. 


90 


“No!” I savagely made answer. “But it is through no 
fault of you and yours that her body has not been burned to 
a cinder,” and I again raised my pistols. 

“Be calm. I wish to befriend both the girl and you.” He 
blew a shrill note on an ivory whistle swinging from his belt. 
In a moment the half naked form of a novitiate appeared. He, 
too, I covered with my weapons. 

“Take this within and return,” commanded the priest. 
The fellow lifted the tiger skin in his arms and disappeared. 
He strode to the throne and vanished through a door beneath it. 

“Where did you take Aida?” the priest asked. 

“To the springs, in the canyon over there,” and I indi- 
cated Aaida’s resting place with a nod. 

“Well done,” he said, and as the attendant appeared he 
added, “lead us thither. We will carry the girl to a room in 
the temple, where she can get wine and food and warm clothes. 
Then we will see what can be done. Lead on. ” 

I ordered them to precede me and warned both that I would 
shoot to kill at the first sign of treachery, at which threat the 
priest chuckled audibly. 

We found Aida and lifted her into a swing made of soft 
furs. Thus, the two men, priest and novitiate transferred the 
girl, still in deep slumber to the secret entrance of the temple. 
Here we tarried. 

“I wish you to seriously listen to what I have to say,” I 
told them. “It is quite possible you are leading me into a 
deadly snare. Alone, I am unable to revive this maid or to ef- 
fect her escape. My personal honor compels me to protect her 
and you must understand that before I am harmed or impris- 
oned I will kill.” Facing the priest I continued, “You are a 
Russian and I a German. I believe, as sometime in your life, 
you have been a gentleman. I ask you to recall that time and to 
swear to me by the side of this persecuted child, to defend 
her from further harm and to aid me in taking her away from 
this abominable temple.” 

“By the beard of my father and the love of my mother, 
I swear it. Put up your pistols and follow,” and we passed 
through the door into a dark passage. We groped along the 
corridor which frequently changed its direction for some dis- 
tance. Occasionally I saw the glimmer of lights and heard the 
low tones of voices nearly hushed. Finally we entered a room. 
The attendant left us and presently returned with several beau- 
tiful copper torches. By the light of these the spacious room 

91 


was illuminated. Aida was placed upon a couch. She trembled 
with cold and a fur was thrown over her, the priest, meanwhile, 
having sent for food and drink. 

I awoke the girl with some difficulty. She half arose and 
I again spoke to her in her own tongue. She recognized my 
voice and throwing her arms around my neck clung to me 
sobbing like a child. She kissed my face and beard, my hair 
and hands and stroked my cheeks with her soft palms. Look- 
ing over my shoulders she saw the priest ond his servant and 
shrieking in terror she clung so tightly to me I could scarcely 
breathe. Gradually she was reassured and although trembling 
like a leaf Aida took the proffered hand of the old priest. He 
bent forward and touched her hair with his lips. After her 
altar garments and decorations had been removed she slipped 
into a robe and then swallowed a glass of wine. We would 
not permit her to talk but told her she must eat and sleep. 
This she obediently did and curling up as a kitten does she fell 
asleep on the restful couch. 

CHAPTER XXI 

We arose and after closing the door left Aida soundly 
asleep in the brilliant chamber. The novitiate was ordered to 
remain on guard at the entrance and to notify the priest of the 
approach of any one. The latter and I then proceeded to a 
vault which proved to be the treasury and record-room of the 
temple. The priest lighted a torch which he affixed to the wall 
and pointed to a chair. Food and liquors in solid gold dishes 
and decanters were placed upon a stone table, and as 1 half- 
famished, fed my weary body, I intently listened to my host. 

‘‘It does not matter how I came here. Perhaps, I soared 
like a hawk or crawled as a serpent into this temple — this place 
devoted to the worship of the body and of gold. However, I 
came and have remained longer than a score of years and now 
at the age of sevnty-two when passion is dead and my avarice 
about to be gratified, I wish to leave it forever. Will you go 
with me and thus aid me to escape?” 

‘ ‘ And we shall take Aida ? ’ ’ 

“Yes! Aida and the man we left guarding the door 
to the chamber in which she is sleeping.” 

“I am listening,” I said. 

“I perceive you are a cautious man and I yearn to be your 

92 


friend. This vault contains an immense amount of treasure — 
in rubles its value is equivalent to millions.” 

“Alas!” he added, “it is too bad we cannot carry off all 
of it,” and his eyes devoured the strong boxes arranged in 
order about the apartment. “But,” he exultantly cried, “as 
keeper of all of this I have had the opportunity of picking and 
choosing and I have as many of these, as a reward for years of 
mock priest-hood, as one man or, possibly, two men, can carry 
on a long journey.” As he spoke he showed to me in turn 
strings of pearls, diamonds and other precious gems, bejewelled 
and inlaid ornaments and gold coins. The tiger skin which 
had caused the crippled Tartar’s death was upon the floor 
and he ended his strange speech long enough to look through 
the gifts and select several of large value. 

“We will add these to our store. They are of exquisite 
form and very rich. Soon I will make you owner of one-half 
of all of this if you will help me to leave the country. Share 
with me the hardships of a perilous escape until we are safe 
from thieves and murderers and I will divide,” and drawing 
a cross from beneath his robe the arch-hypocrite raised it to 
his lips. “Aida, we wil care for,” he concluded, “and I am 
satisfied she can make the long walk. It is only I, who may 
collapse from fatigue, hunger and the weary going.” 

“Is this treasure, yous to keep or to steal?” 

“I am now head of the temple, for the king and high 
priest are dead. Moreover, the treasure is as much my own 
as it was the property of the high priest and the king. No 
other person in the temple dare touch it and no one save the 
king, the high priest and myself was ever allowed to remove 
and to use for his personal benefit the gifts of the people. I 
wish to tell you, that for several days after we leave we may 
be followed and possibly killed, not by priests but by the fan- 
atical worshippers you saw at yesterday’s ceremony. Are you 
afraid ? ’ ’ 

“Not I. We will start before dawn.” 

“First, help me to securely bundle these.” We tied such 
treasure as he selected from hidden recesses in the walls, from 
beneath the floor and from the great chests into a bundle 
weighing perhaps an hundred pounds. The pocket was ar- 
ranged so it could be slung over the shoulders as is a mountain- 
eer’s pack. 

“Tell me who are the women whose voices I heard as we 
entered the temple?” 


93 


‘‘They are the girls selected by the king and high priest 
for the coming year’s sacrifices. Each, in turn, will die on 
the altar on the last Friday of each month. Aida was the first 
of the twelve.’’ 

“We must not leave them to die.” 

“They will meet a worse fate if they are sent adrift in 
the woods — there are wild beasts and wilder and more cruel 
men and women. For the present they are safer in the tem- 
ple. The people dare not enter it.” 

“Are you sure there is no other way?” I persisted. 
“Shake off your priestly way of thinking and look at this 
matter as a man.” 

“I know of no way other than to shake the faith of the 
people in the power of their idol, of the fire-god. It is he who 
has preserved the temple and who safeguards it.” 

“Then,” I quickly said, “when we destroy the temple we 
will break their superstitious belief in the almighty power of 
their god?” 

“Yes, but how destroy it? Ah! I have an idea. It is 
good. The basin in which stands the idol is fed with pero- 
leum from a lake of that fluid several miles away. The main 
channel through which it flows passes through the corridor 
between these vaults and apartments. This pipe is tapped at 
several places and two of them are on the temple floor, the 
others are in the corridor. We will open these taps and then 
the big valve at the head of the main hall. In time, the tem- 
ple floor, and the eorridor will be flooded with petroleum. If 
the oil runs for any length of time it will work its way through 
cracks and crevices in the stone work and under old doorways 
until the floor of every room in the temple is covered. It will 
then continue to flow to the park and again fill the basin of the 
idol and then reach out to the forest where it will work its way 
I know not where or how far. Fortunately, all of the villages 
are to the north and in the neighborhood of the petroleum lake. 
None of these will be touched by this inflammable flood. What 
do you think?” 

“It will be the vengeance of the one true God,” I replied, 
arising from my seat and removing my cap. 

“So be it,” said the priest. “We will now go and release 
the maidens and direct them to speedily flee to the north and 
to stop at the first village. I will send a priestly message to 
the headman of the village charging him to clothe and care 

94 


for them. This shall be a talisman,” and he picked up a mag- 
nificently be jeweled bracelet from the floor. 

We went out into the corridor leaving the door of the 
treasury open. The light of the torches enabled us to move 
quickly. He called to the novitiate and told him to ascend 
to the temple floor and open the oil valves. The man was 
dumb-founded and did not move. The priest stamped his foot 
in a rage and struck the man in the face who then bowed his 
head and quickly started on his erand. Midwaj?- between the 
rear entrance and the treasury .the priest opened a door giving 
into a long narrow room. On stone couches, covered with rugs 
the figures of eleven unhappy maidens were seen by us wrapped 
in slumber. Some were dreaming and softly sobbing and cry- 
ing as they dreamed. Some were in each other’s arms as in- 
fants sleep in a crib. Others had folded their hands on their 
breasts and lay so still they appeared to be dead, while still 
others yet wore the expressions of horror which had trans- 
formed their features when standing around Aida’s altar. 

We hurriedly awoke them and to one the old priest, with 
many admonitions and instructions, gave the bracelet. The 
poor things were now mad with joy and rushed to the old man 
kissing and hugging him, one after another. They were al- 
most delirious over the prospect of an escape from the temple. 
The old priest led them to the entrance and when he was sure 
they had taken the right path and direction through the forest 
he returned to where I stood thanking the Creator for His di- 
vine mercy. 

The attendant was given the bundle of treasure, which he 
easily raised to his stout and muscular shoulders, and told to 
await us at the feet of the idol. I then awoke Aida and found 
to my delight that she had been refreshed and was quite strong. 
She was wrapped in a fur. Together we made a package of 
food which I told her she must care for and carry. I slipped 
into one of my pockets a flagon of wine and then led Aida to 
the waiting novitiate. 

Together the priest and I turned the big rude valve at 
the head of the corridor. It had been closed to end the blaze 
about the idol the previous night. We then opened, in turn, 
the taps or small valves along the corridor. Not far from each 
tap we put a burning torch so arranged it would ignite the 
oil soon after it issued. Then we ascended to the temple floor 
to see whether or not the attendant had obeyed his orders. 

95 


The taps were open. We quickly descended to the ground after 
placing torches around the temple floor. 

‘‘Suppose we light the draperies of that wonderful room 
in the corner?” I said to the priest. 

“Better wait. He who goes near it is defiled. It will go 
fast enough. Moreover, I am afraid if the temple is fired be- 
fore we leave it we may have some trouble with the bearer of 
our treasure. We must keep him with us at all hazards.” 

The priest threw his last torch into the circular basin in 
which stood the mammoth form of the idol and we started off. 

“I think,” he said, “it will be at least an hour before the 
oil begins to run. It is a cool morning and the petroleum is 
thick and heavy.” 

CHAPTER XXII 

To the east, and slightly to the south of the temple, was 
a range of high hills thinly timbered and partly covered with 
boulders and smaller rocks. The soil was highly mineralized 
and judging from its reddish brown color was rich in iron 
of manganeese. I can say that this section for many miles 
to the east presents attractive locations to the mineralogist and 
mining prospector. To the north and west of the temple are 
the oil fields which some day will enrich the Russian empire. 
By day this country is tiresome to the eye, fond of picturesque 
nature, yet, the only interest it does possess to the traveler are 
the infrequent views he obtains from the peaks of mountains 
and other high promonotories. Some of the canyons in the 
mountains are deep and precipitous and water is found in 
abundance but the whole territory is nearly devoid of wild ani- 
mal life and is covered with little vegetation. The route followed 
by us, subsequent to our escape, is the most difficult to tra- 
verse, yet the shortest to the plains which stretch out at the base 
of the mountains to the border of Russia. 

As we slowly ascended the hills we followed a winding 
course and perhaps an hour had passed before we reached 
the summit. Here, a large, high, oblong rock afforded us 
some protection from the cool early morning breezes. To the 
east, the first faint glow of the coming day was visible. 
Although we had marched for an hour or more to gain this 
isolated spot we were, in a straight line, not more than 
a short mile from the temple. As soon as we had halted we 
eagerly turned to it. The interior was evidently a mass of 

96 


flames. The gorgeous room on the northeast corner of the 
floor had been utterly destroyed and so far as we were able 
to judge the subterranean corridor and apartments were filled 
with burning oil. The bodies of the king and priests were 
burning. Rivulets of blazing petroleum, like snakes of gold, 
were swiftly winding their way over the sod of the ground, 
Aida’s pyre was in ashes and leaping flames surrounded the 
grim and loathsome figure of the bronze idol. 

“God’s holy will be done!” I cried, and turning to Aida 
I opened my arms. The poor child ran to me and placed her 
head on my shoulder. She was in a fever of intense excite- 
ment but was not all afraid. She tried to make me understand 
that someone in the heavens above us was going to destroy a 
place she intuitively knew was wicked and cruel. Clinging 
to me she watched the progress in the light of the flaming 
oil and pointed out how close it was to the neighborhood of 
the forest. Soon the brush, the scrub and dead trees of the 
woods were ablaze and this latter conflagration made the 
temple, its burning interior, its blackened sod and the repuls- 
ive figure in the center of the ellipse stand out as clearly as 
if they stood only an hundred yards away. 

Larger and more extensive grew the forest fire, for now 
it needed no petroleum to accelerate the speed with which it 
penetrated deeper into the woods. We could see maddened 
animals darting through the brush and some deliberately 
rushing into the flames. We could hear the roar of lions and 
the fierce call of tigers and leopards. Monkies and baboons, 
carrying their young, leaped over the ground or sprang safely 
from tree to tree as they intelligently buried themselves in 
the depth of the forest. 

The illumination was now magnificent, and prominent 
objects could be seen around us for several miles. I knew 
that we were visible from a long distance and, after a lin- 
gering look at the temple, whose interior was a burning fur- 
nace, we withdrew to the east side of the great rock. There 
we could not be seen, save dimly, from the direction in which 
we proposed to travel. 

And now I wish to speak solemnly of an event which took 
place, and to mention it in the same spirit of awe and rever- 
ence I experienced on witnessing it. 

I was aware that earthquakes were not unknown in that 
section of the world. The volcanic and other mineral rock 
formations in the hills and mountains prove that serious 

97 


seismic disturbances had more than once torn assunder and 
disrupted the face of the country. Miniature volcanic craters, 
wide gashes in the hills and mountain sides, yawning chasms 
and crevices and huge rocks thrown to the surface by tre- 
mendous upheavals all demonstrated the visitation of terrific 
tremblers. 

It was now broad daylight. I cannot recall any atmos- 
pheric condition to suggest the coming of unusual physical 
phenomena. I do remember that the path of the sun in the 
east was obscured by thin grayish clouds. 

I was talking to Aida about the temple when I felt the 
hill tremble beneath my feet. The movement was so slight 
the girl did not notice this herald of the quake. The priest 
and the novitiate were both greatly alarmed and, when the 
second and third tremblors shook the earth, leaped to their 
feet and ran quickly to the west side of the rock. Aida 
jumped to my side as the hill continued to violently oscillate. 
A moment after, a long internal rumbling in the bowels of 
the earth was heard followed by a crashing, splitting, awful 
volume of sound. The hill swayed back and forth and, almost 
at our feet a great pit opened from which issued clouds of 
sand and dust. All around us, the air was filled with smoke 
and powdered stone and the wind was furiously blowing from 
the direction of the temple. 

Down the eastern slope of the hill an avalanche of dirt, 
pebbles, small uprooted trees and huge overturned rocks were 
rolling. Afar off tall trees were bending low and some, snap- 
ping in twain, made reports like the firing of rifles. 

Aida and I ran around the rock and faced the temple 
grounds. The air was filled with clouds of smoke, burning 
leaves and twigs of trees and the odor of petroleum. The 
wind was now a gale and tore down before it everything in 
its path. We heard a prolonged, sinister noise, like the crack- 
ing or splitting of the earth, fofiowed by a stupendous crash. 
Great clouds, inpenetrable for a moment, hung over the site 
of the heathen temple, but the fierce gale whipped them into 
shreds and sent them scurrying to us and past us. We saw 
that the temple walls and floor had collapsed and that the 
idol had fallen from the basin into a huge newly made cleft. 
It seemed that hell itself had opened its jaws to swallow and 
forever hide that monstrous figure of shameless idolatry. 

I turned to where I thought the priest and his attendant 
had taken refuge. The spot was emj)ty and both men and 

98 


treasure had disappeared. Aida and I carefully explored the 
hilltop for some distance in several directions but failed to 
discover our former companions. We observed several wide, 
shallow openings in the earth which were the direct results 
of the earthquake. Passing around one of these we walked 
to the western side of the hill which was gently precipitous. 
I thought I heard a voice calling faintly for help, and on 
advancing to the brow I saw that a bench or surface pro- 
jection of the hill had been shaken down. Below, some fifty 
feet, I recognized the form of the priest moving feebly about 
through the pile of loose debris strewn over a second bench 
or level surface. Plat on his back lay the immovable form 
of the novitiate and beneath his shoulders was the tiger skin 
open and almost bare of its former collection of valuables. 
It was plain that both men in their excitement and terror had 
walked to the edge of the perilous projection and that the last 
great shock of the quake had precipitated both with their 
standing place to the bench below. The novitiate had alighted 
on the bundle strapped to his back. The cords which bound 
the bulky package had broken and nearly all of the rich jewels 
and gems it contained had rolled over the edge of the cliff 
to the deep canyon and trails below. 

Aida and I, after much scrambling during which the girl’s 
feet and hands were painfully lacerated, reached the old priest, 
who though bruised was yet weakly looking through the mass 
of earth and stones for his lost treasure. The attendant was 
dead, the fall on the unyielding bundle of metal having broken 
his neck. We spent several hours in a quest for the missing 
jewels and gold, and after a close search we contrived to re- 
cover a considerable quantity of it — perhaps thirty-five pounds. 
This we divided in three parcels, the lightest of which was 
given to Aida, the next in weight to the priest and the heaviest 
I swung to my shoulders. 

It was late in the afternoon when we again reached the 
summit of the hill. The priest was unable to continue the 
march and we resolved to camp for the night at the rock. 
Our food, though scanty, was nutritious and we had enough 
of it to sustain the life of our little party for several days. 
The air was now clearing. The strong winds had ceased and 
only gentle zephyrs were abroad. Over the temple hung 
heavy clouds of black smoke enshrouding that tomb of wick- 
edness in most befitting cerements. It was quite plain the 
earthquake had broken all connection between the lake of 

99 


petroleum to the north and the structure, for the fires were 
all about extinguished. The woods, too, had burned out and 
look as we might, we could see no living creature of nature 
in that dreadful scene. We believed pursuit after the fire 
to be improbable. The early part of the night we sat half- 
erect with our backs to the smooth rock which kindly pro- 
tected us from the winds which grew cooler as the hours 
passed. 

CHAPTER XXIII 

“Life,” said the priest holding his package of gems in 
his covetous hands, “is a chain of surprises and some have 
lives which endure long enough to mock us in the end. 

“Some natures are composed of base metals; some are 
precious mixed with alloys, and some are pure gold. 

“The crucible of all suffering, which comes from imper- 
fect knowledge and the presumption of ignorance, refines the 
natural gold. 

“Every person is impelled to his or her destiny by forces 
from without which are increased or retarded in their action 
by the presence or absence of moral and intellectual fund- 
amentals. 

“An honest man of fair mentality cannot for long be 
seriously shocked or impeded on his way through life by the 
surprises of a rude adversity, but he who is dishonest, be his 
mind as resplendent with knowledge as is the sun bright, 
can be shaken and uprooted as a reed by a great and single 
stroke of misfortune. 

“The first returns to the struggle of life reinvigorated 
by pain and the uses of the unexpected and boldly re-enters 
his proper sphere. The other sinks to the role of a petty 
thief, stealing alike from the rich and the poor and always 
made more contemptible by the fiashes of a superior intel- 
ligence refiecting his own unworthiness. 

“Behold me on the top of this hill — crushed and deprived 
of the spoils of a period of longer than twenty years — a time 
of self-imposed servitude of the basest and most inhuman 
kind! 

“In a moment, comes an awful visitation, a cataclyism, 
an unlooked for and undetermined catastrophe and away 
vanishes the hopes of years and the means of realizing my 
dreams. 

“The instruments, to the ends I sought, have slipped 
100 


through my fingers like grains of sand and even now, in 
this isolated country, are buried as they were when in their 
original form they were taken from the earth by the cupidity 
of man.” 

He tossed the package of gems to the earth saying, “At 
last, I believe! good cannot come from evil.” He carefully 
arranged his long hair and beard and drew his hood over his 
face and without further ado fell asleep. 

I do not believe Aida understood very much of our aged 
companion’s philosophy and the sardonic realization of his 
own despicable life in the temple, but she listened intently. 
* ‘ Tell me, Aida, ’ ’ I said, when the priest was asleep, ^ ‘ of what 
was he speaking?” 

“He wishes to be sorry for something he has done and 
does not know how. He is not like you, here, ’ ’ and she placed 
her little brown hand over her heart. 

“Tell me something of yourself, Aida, of your home and 
village and how you were taken to the ^mple.” 

Poor child ! she had been taught from girlhood to expect 
that one day she would be elected by the king or high priest 
to die upon the altar. Despite the dread of this future, the 
horror of which is almost inconceivable to the ordinary mind, 
Aida preserved a cheerful and happy manner. Always, some 
infinite power fed the fire of her hopes and strengthened her 
belief that a way would be provided by which she would 
escape death on a pile of burning fagots. She never could 
be made to think that such sacrifices were right or were ap- 
proved of by the invisible spirit she dimly thought controlled 
all human aifairs. 

The priests filled her with horror and she had shuddered 
when the old man in my presence kissed her hand. Yet, a 
small voice ever told her that there was ONE superior to all 
of these vulgar licentious and self-seeking officials of the 
temple and even superior to the great god whose malignity 
and hate could be appeased only by the barbarous taking of 
human lives. Aida told me that after she was taken to the 
temple, one month before the new year was to begin, she was 
glad to be chosen as the first to die and that her dread of 
awaiting her last hours, entombed in the temple, almost de- 
prived her of reason. She welcomed the quick coming of her 
cruel taking-off without regret. She said those who remained 
after her would surely go mad as most of the girls were raving 
maniacs when they were burned. For some reason unknown 

101 


to her, she had never been taken to the chamber of the temple 
and presented to the king, although it was the custom to send 
each victim to that damnable horror at the king’s desire, at 
intervals during the month preceding her destruction by fire. 

The Hindoo she told me had been left on the temple steps 
when an infant, although some said he fell from a dark cloud 
to the stairway. He was the strongest man in that part of 
the country and could easily break the neck of a bull with 
his hands and arms. He was gentle and very kind and was 
liked by all children, who were not at all afraid of the giant, 
living in the villages. He was the personal attendant of the 
high priest and would take orders from no other, not even the 
king. I was surprised to learn he was speechless, being, as 
Aida stated, quite dumb or rather unable to articulate. My 
little friend had lost her entire family in early childhood, 
but had been, for that country, kindly cared for in the home of 
the village chief or headman who was a trusted servant of the 
high priest. Far off to the northwest she had been told was a 
second temple but she knew nothing of it of her own knowl- 
edge. 

‘‘And you wish to go with me to Russia?” I asked. 

“I wish to go where I will not see things,” she answered, 
meaning that she desired to live in a country where the shadow 
of sacrificial death and other pagan rites would not be con- 
stantly before her eyes. 

CHAPTER XXIV 

On the fourth morning following the earthquake we 
started to cross the foothills through the narrow passes to the 
mountains. I will not dwell upon the rigors of that march 
except to say that before we reached the range of low moun- 
tains which separated us from the Russian plains we endured 
hunger, thirst and cold. Our feet were scratched and bruised. 
As for myself, I was yet strong but I knew the aged priest 
was not only growing far weaker every day for want of proper 
nourishment but that a slow fever was sapping the vitality of 
his mind and body. His will was marvelous, and his learning 
profound. Had this old man devoted his life to noble purposes 
he might have become a great public benefactor. As he grew 
feebler Aida’s distrust of him changed to pity. Surreptiously 
she would slip to him a part of her own small share of our 

102 


store of food, a practice I stopped, speaking to her for the 
first time sternly. 

It was Aida who found nutritive plants and herbs along 
our dismal way and it was she who beat the bush for me, 
driving into the open foxes and rabbits which I sometimes 
killed with my pistols. She helped the priest climb many a 
long and heart-breaking ascent and always with smiles of 
encouragement. She was a splendid woman in the making. 
Her pure soul radiated the best of those natural qualities com- 
mon to women of heart who we are pleased to nominate the 
weaker sex, but, to my thinking, I have met few men who in 
even fortitude and brave confidence were the equals of this 
humbly born, untrained and uneducated Tartar girl. Self-sac- 
rific marked her most charming deeds and she possessed the 
heart of a child that knows no wrong or fear. While sub- 
mitted to the indelicacies and to the embarrassing necessities 
of that arduous journey, which was a long series of privations 
and dangers, the latent admirable and even lovable intuitions 
of the girl rapidly developed. 

Before we reached the grand canyon through which we 
were to travel to the plains we encountered intensely hot wea- 
ther. It was impossible to march during the day but by util- 
izing the cooler hours of the short nights we continually pro- 
gressed. On entering the great cleft in the mountains we 
stepped into an atmosphere cool during the few hours its in- 
hospitable floor felt the rays of the sun and almost icy the 
remainder of the entire day. We saw many peculiar and in- 
teresting objects not the least of which were the delicately 
colored strata composing the walls of the deep ravine, the 
tempestuous river which rushed over its entire length and its 
fathomless pools abounding in fish. We entered and slept in 
many caves, the lairs of wild animals and saw several notable 
water-fowls. We disturbed dens of writhing snakes and on 
one occasion I fought an eagle which on being disturbed, 
swiftly - swooped down upon and viciously attacked Aida. 

One night we were compelled to sleep on the floor of the 
canyon and all three huddled together that we might better 
endure the cold with as little suffering as possible. We halted 
in the middle of the afternoon and pitched our little camp 
because the priest could walk no longer. He was very ill 
and his fever was mounting higher. 

As we gazed up into the heavens above us, the sky seemed 
to be a narrow aerial roadway studded with innumerable 


103 


stars. We heard only the monotonous passage of the waters 
of the river or the cry of some startled bird of the night. 

“Will you not tell me your name?” I asked of the old 

man. 

No!” he abruptly answered and then, after a pause, “It 
is best so. I will tell you that I have a wife and a daughter 
somewhere in Tartary — just where I do not know. My wife 
I saved as Aida was saved, from sacrifice. It is a story, I 
fancy, only of interest to myself, yet, you and this child have 
been kind to one who, the world may say, I admit with justice, 
is unworthy so I will say this M. Roll. Your care of Aida too 
has touched me, revived old thoughts and feelings. Ah, what 
a simple thing is the human heart, after all. Adam thought 
and felt, as we do, in the alphabet of thought, feeling and 
speech and as did Caine ; the prophets did so in immortal speech 
and we — God, how I wander like a delirious fool! 

“Years ago I was a missionary in Armenia and 
taught savages the truths of Christianity I did not then 
believe. They turned on me at last. Perhaps they in- 
tuitively knew I was playing a role. I escaped their 
anger, reached Persia and became an official in a Persian, what 
shall I call it? — place of worship. Human sacrifices were 
offered up, at intervals to false gods. One of the selected for 
death, Zuleka, was pointed out to me. The fiesh is stronger 
than the will, fiercer than the most stubborn purpose. I saw 
and loved and determined to have this maid for my own. She 
was the daughter of a Persian, an avaracious old fanatic who 
loved money far more the the commendation of priests or the 
favor of the gods. He agreed to sell and I to buy, but first 
he would show me all of his daughters. In a luxurious room 
with pipes and rich liquers we sat as the girls came trooping 
in robed in gauze, their shapely forms quite visible in tunics 
and trousers of the diaphonous stuff. They danced and pos- 
tured and gyrated about the chamber. I liked none better 
than Zuleka, and after their departure I offered her father the 
bag of gold I had stolen from the coffers of the idolatrous 
temple. Did I say that I had before met Zuleka and told her 
of my love and my purpose to elope with her? and that she 
frantically accepted this chance to escape death by torture? 
She knew where my camel was hidden, the fleetest beast in 
that part of the country and anxiously awaited the purchase. 
Zuleka returned to the room and seated herself demurely on 
the rug while her father counted the gold in the bag I had 

104 


given him. He soon saw the bag did not hold half the price and 
with an exclamation of anger he sprang to his feet, rapped 
loudly on a table and looked at me with blazing eyes. I sprang 
to his side, snached the bag from his hand and struck him 
over the head with it. He feel to the floor dazed and bleeding. 
Guards entered with naked swords, but taking one of them 
unawares, I wrenched the sword from his hand and with 
Zuleka close to my side fought my way to a latticed door 
opening into a dark, narrow street. I threw my weight against 
this frail barrier and after some desperate flghting in the street, 
contrived to mount the camel with Zuleka. We sped away 
in the dark and in the end eluded our pursuers. 

“On the desert one day we tarried in a thick dumb of 
bushes and trees only a short distance from an oasis. 
Here we were hidden from view on three sides. As we 
were resting there two men mounted on horses came toward us. 
They stopped at the pool, dismounted and drank. One took 
from his horse a great bundle wrapped with cords. He opened 
and spread this on the sand. I saw, while Zuleka slept, the 
rich objects these bandits had secured. Evidently they had 
stolen from a caravan or robbed a travelling merchant. The 
thieves quarrelled over their booty until one slyly killed the 
other. Without compunction he cut the throat of the dead 
man’s horse, rearranged his stolen wares and rode away. 
Zuleka still slept. As the fellow passed our place of conceal- 
ment I walked out to him and stood in his way. He trembled 
with fear and dismounted. I told him I had seen all — the halt 
at the spring, the booty spread on the sand, the murder. He 
agreed to divide his stolen goods if I would not pursue or 
interfere with his journey. I consented and when he turned to 
take the bundle from the back of his horse I drove my dagger 
to the hilt between his shoulders. I drew the body into the 
brush and awoke Zuleka who mounted the kneeling camel. 
I jumped on the dead man’s horse and we continued to the 
north. We escaped the guards sent out from the Persian temple 
and after some vicissitudes reached the village you visited 
just before reaching the temple we have destroyed. There 
Zuleka and I were married with pagan ceremonies and lived 
for two years. I posed as a miracle-man or doctor. Love of 
gold and the devil prompted me to attach myself to the high 
priest of the temple and I deserted my young wife and her 
child, a daughter and so — and so I sent them adrift. I know 
not whether they be living or dead. This girl, Aida, I have 

105 


fancied is as my daughter might have been had she lived, poor 
child. I will never survive to pass through this canyon. I wish 
you to give to Aida my share of all that is left of the temple’s 
treasure. It shall be hers to do with as she pleases. You 
promise?” 

I promised, and for the first time I sensed how very near 
death was this strange man. 

”I have been in many countries and sojourned in gay and 
frivolous capitols. I have been a student and a philos- 
opher and fancied myself a revolutionist — a rebel against^ the 
conventions of the world. I have been rich and have lived 
on mouldy crusts. I have been from the lowest to the top 
round of the ladder of life. I have seen all save that which 
comes to a man when his soul, if he have a soul, leaves his 
decayed body. 

“He is dying.” whispered Aida, and I motioned to her 
to move away, but she crawled over me and raised the priest’s 
head to her knees. He was gasping for breath. Quickly he 
sat upright and looked about him and into the shadows of 
the canyon. “It is very dark,” he hoarsely muttered and fell 
back into Aida’s arms. In a moment he was dead. I sent 
Aida up the canyon to await me. When she was gone I strip- 
ped the gaunt body of its clothing and tied to its shoulders 
a heavy rock. I then rolled it to the brink of a deep pool 
and cast it into the water. Gathering the dead man’s gar- 
ments and the package of treasure in my arms I made my way 
to Aida and found her weeping. 

“It is all over,” I said, “and he is now at rest. Remember 
child, that he has been very kind to you. ” And we then forged 
ahead through a stony gorge, having first divided the clothing 
to our mutual comfort and advantage. 

CHAPTER XXV 

We followed the river through the canyon to where it 
spreads over the Russian plain. We crossed marsh after marsh 
and frequently I. carried Aida on my shoulders through some 
deep and treacherous morass. One morning I saw the smoke 
of camp fires far ahead of us on the plain and told Aida we 
would soon be with persons who were not pagan savages but 
who would treat us kindly. She was very much pleased and 
skipped along in front of me picking wild fiowers and laugh- 
ing at the water fowl who fiew away frightened at her antics. 

106 


We contrived to arrange our clothing in a more becoming 
manner, yet ‘try as we did to improve it, our appearance was 
yet uncouth and strange. 

A caravan on its way to the border had stopped to rest 
for the night and fortunately for us was delayed in again 
starting on its journey. A mile from the camp a mounted 
guard saw us and riding rapidly soon met and gave us a 
hospitable greeting. We were escorted to the Russian in 
charge who provided for us everything necessary to our com- 
fort. No one asked us any questions and we related no stories 
of our adventures and experiences. I only asked that we be 
furnished transportation to the border which request was 
promptly granted. 

I now learned for the first time of the war in progress 
between Turkey and Russia. I yet held my commission as a 
captain of grenadiers and I at once yearned to again enter 
into active service. I purchased a strong horse from the 
Russian capable of traveling rapidly while carrying both Aida 
and me. A package of food and a leather jar containing water 
completed our equipment in which was included the temple 
treasure securely packed on my back. We reached the border 
in safety and thence proceeded to a russian barracks. We 
remained here until I was properly identified and assigned to 
duty. Several weeks after my arrival I had the pleasure of 
meeting General Monguke and his daughter Lucia, who had so 
kindly befriended me when I was in prison a short time after 
my arrival in Russia. She was happily married to a Russian 
officer of distinction. To her father I confided the secret of 

Aida^s rescue. Madam had fallen in love with Aida, 

and the two young women at once became great friends. She 
offered to permanently engage the Tartar girl as her com- 
panion but, when I informed her that the young woman was 
rich and quite able to employ companions and maids in her 
own service, she was astonished. It was agreed between us 
that Aida’s fortune should be converted into rubles and coin 
of the empire and deposited to her credit in a bank at Kiev, 

and that she should enter the home circle of Madam as a 

social equal and that General Monguke and his daughter should 
supervise her education. Every ounce of the superb treasure 
captured in the temple, with the exception of some beautiful 
jewels, was placed to the credit of my affectionate and grate- 
ful little friend. The jewels were saved for Aida’s personal 
use and adornment. 


107 


And now I wish to state a belief firmly rooted 
in my mind. I can give no logical reason for thinking 
that Aida is the daughter of the old keeper of the temple 
treasury except this thought that ever pursues me. 

Prom what source among the half-savage, superstitious 
and ignorant people of the temple’s neighborhood did Aida in- 
herit her grace, beauty of form and face, her calm demeanor 
and magnificent fortitude, her retentive memory and quick 
perceptions, her marvelous intuitions and the adaptability 
to the manners, dress and customs of the noble and exclusive ? 
Prom whence came her erect carriage, the aristocratic poise of 
her head, her determination and fixidity of purpose and fear- 
lessness? Prom none other than the old gray-bearded seer of 
the temple. And thus believing, I held that this young wo- 
man’s sufferings, added to my Ibelief that the best blood of 
Russia flows through her veins, justified me in giving to her 
the spoils seized by the man I believe to have been her father. 

You will, I am sure, be glad to learn that Aida has be- 
come so far as I know, all that was predicted of her, and is 

supremely happy. She remains an intimate in Madame 

family whom I hope Marie and I will soon have the happiness 
to meet and to entertain. 

During the progres of the war subsequent to my return 
to service I have been on the frontiers and have been moved 
about from place to place and never for a long period at one 
post. I have been in many engagements but have escaped 
serious injury. A short time after my transfer to Mt. San Nico- 
las through the kindness of General , I obtained a leave 

of absence and then wrote to you, my father-in-law, the first 
message I have sent to the castle since I went away. I intend 
to write of my adventures in other parts of the world, and 
especially, of the exciting life I led in Persia and Arabia which 
I hope will afford you some entertainment.” 

At the conclusion of his reminiscences Marie arose and 
embraced her husband. Tomorrow dear,” she said, will 
write to Aida. She will always have a friend in me.” 

M. Tchorjevsky was intensely interested and gratified 
at the disclosures of his son-in-law. As he related them the 
accounts of his acts reflected upon the narrator the greatest 
honor. Por the time being he put aside all feelings of sus- 
picion and anger and gave full credit to the admirable char- 
acter of the man he had abused and humiliated. He was, as 

108 


is doubtless now understood by the readers of this narration, 
largely a creature of impulse, but by no means habitually 
ignoble but responsive, at frequent intervals, to really noble 
thoughts. 

At the conclusion of the meal M. Tchorjevsky invited Roll 
and his wife to his private office in the castle. Here he opened 
his safe and took therefrom documents awarding Roll a cer- 
tain part of his estate. The soldier thanked him, but refrained 
from accepting it, stating as his excuse that for the present 
he would be unable to properly care for papers so valuable. 

M. Tchorjevsky recalled that bitter day when he had ac- 
cused Roll of mercenary motives in marrying his daughter 
and when his agent had spurned the purse that he had offered 
him in distrust and anger. He recalled his son-in-law’s de- 
parture — and without a ruble — his act of taking up a life 
strange and dangerous to him, of his persistent and honorable 
success. Overcome with emotion he sank into a chair weeping. 

Marie anxiously knelt beside him petting his hand and 
speaking to him caressing words. Roll hurried for a glass 
of water, himself alarmed, for this was a new mood and con- 
dition in which to see the old Polish officer. 

“There is nothing the matter with me; nothing at all!” 
he said to Roll. “Take these keys,” he continued, “and keep 
them,” as he replaced in the safe the document he had offered 
to Roll. As he walked unsteadily out of the room he looked 
straight in the eyes of his son-in-law and said: 

“Everything in that safe is yours — money and papers. 1 
give it all to you. Use it well.” 

When he had gone Roll and his wife looked into the safe. 
Apparently it contained a large sum of money. 

“What, dear Prank,” queried his wife, “will you do with 
all this money?” 

“Your father told me to use it well and I have a plan. 
But I will not use this wealth unless you agree with me as to 
the manner in which I shall dispose of it.” 

“You have my approval, dear Frank, of all your plans. 
Moreover, the money is yours, not mine. You have earned it.” 

‘ ‘ Sweetly said, my dear wife, ’ ’ and the enriched man bent 
over and kissed the upturned face. 

During the net years of the Russian-Turkish war the 
treasury of the Empire was depleated. The war had to be con- 
tinued and this was done by the extension of the government’s 

109 


indebtedness and by the voluntary and enforced contributions 
of all those who had money and food to spare. 

The nobility and mercantile classes were large givers. 
It is not recorded that M. Tchorjevsky gave liberally to the 
cause of an empire he really despised, but Prank Roll was 
more than generous to his adopted country and conspicuous 
for his voluntary gifts of money and food to the soldiers sta- 
tioned in Mt. S'an Nicolas and to the support of children left 
orphans by the misfortunes of war. 

The Russian Government recognized the loyalty of the 
soldier and in return therefor conferred upon him conspicuous 
distinctions. He had really been of more practical service to 
the army by his contributions and by personally supervising 
their distribution than he had ever been by his military suc- 
cesses. General Roll was called to Kiev and elected a member 
of the war congress and at the same time was made a Baron. 
An escutcheon was originated for him and this was engraved 
with the name of the Czar and the date of the foundation of 
this new branch of the Russian nobility. On the receipt of 
his new honors General Roll determined to visit father-in-law 
and his family. His departure was hastened by the informa- 
tion that the estate had been placed by its sometimes eccentric 
owner under a new superintendent. On his return Marie con- 
firmed this news. 

CHAPTER XXVI 

Russia is the congenial permanent abiding place of in- 
trigue. It has and will ever exist until the recognition by the 
nation of its vicious results becomes universal. No period of 
Italian history is so replete with the secret machinations of 
society, civil, religious, political and military as is the abhorent 
records of Russian intrigue stretching over a period which 
extends from the semi-barbaric development of the nation 
down to the present time. The purposes and methods of in- 
trigue are common to the Russian mind. It is utilized when 
other means of acquiring the same' object might prove equally 
as effective. Here it includes all forms of diplomacy, and 
when its subterfuges, which are its strongest weapons are 
applied to social and private affairs, their actions and expres- 
sion are invariably debasing and dastardly. 

Intrigue was more or less active in the affairs of M. 
Tchorjevsky. The family, including even the children, suffered 
from its baleful and cowardly practice. 

110 


The head of it was too responsive to the whispering of 
conspirators bent upon injuring Frank Roll and was lead to 
do acts of violence bordering on attempted murder. His in- 
justices to the German were the indirect results of intrigue. 

Madam Roll, a devoted wife and mother and a woman of 
probity and of virtuous candor who clung to her faith in her 
husband with fingers of steel, succumbed for a moment, as 
will be seen, under trying circumstances, to the promptings 
of a horrible suspicion and hysterically charged her husband 
with the attempted assassination of her father. 

The poison of intrigue, is in its action as swift and insid- 
uous as the flow and effects of quicksilver injected into the 
veins of a living person. 

The trusted household servants of the aristocracy of 
Russia are unmoral. Their distinction between right and 
wrong even among those who are, or who wish to be loyal 
and honest, is dim, undefined and uncertain. Their thoughts 
and their outward conduct are influenced by the questionable 
acts of their superiors, hidden from the world, but which are 
as an open book to domestic servants. Some of these con- 
fidential underlings are mentally acute “clever business men.’^ 
and have a genius for plotting and planning. Such an one 
was the major domo of the castle — an accomplished scoundrel 
and actor. 

The fear of being exiled to Siberia made brave men, serv- 
ants as well as others, moral cowards. These deportations 
to that much-dreaded country were too frequently the results 
of intrigue in one or another manifestation. The number of 
persons committed to Siberia by courts, untouched by the sug- 
gestions and commands of conspirators, was few. This fact 
was well known to the politician, and was the plant which 
bore more than one revolution. 

See how this dread of it transformed Ivan, a brave and 
faithful man into an inglorious coward. 

Ivan drove Madam Roll to the “little tree farm’ ’to assist 
in the recovery of William. In her defence he shot and killed 
the man who, had he lived, might have seriously injured the 
distracted mother. So far, Ivan had done his duty to his mis- 
tress. But, the realization that he had taken a human life 
in the development of what he thought might prove an in- 
trigue, prompted him to flee and hastily return to the castle. 
He did not know whether or not his mistress was dead. He 


111 


had seen her fall violently to the floor of the house, but never- 
theless he fled. 

During the absence and mental illness of Madam Roll this 
weak creature, knowing full well the fearful state of mind 
of his master, did not disclose his knowledge of the events 
which occurred that night in the isolated farm house. It was 
only when Madam Roll was returned to the castle and regained 
her health that he spoke and then because the physician in 
charge of her had identified him as her driver through the 
incoherent revelations his patient had made. 

Intrigue ! 

Running like a deadly virus through the fabric of the 
whole Russian empire is intrigue itself, imperious and all 
powerful. 

His wife having confirmed the rumor that the estate was 
in charge of a new management, Roll at once went to the 
apartment of his father-in-law and asked for an explanation. 
He was sitting in his bed-room in a big arm chair smoking 
his pipe. He held a heavy walking stick in his hand. Roll 
offered him his hand in greeting. It was refused. Arising, 
M. Tehorjevsky faced his son-in-law. His countenance was 
flushed with anger and his eyes were blazing. Roll had never 
seen him look so terrible. Pointing his cane to him he said: 
“Go back to your gambling club, you profligate! You have 
thrown away money earned by work. Your philanthropical 
schemes were false and a mask! You have dishonored my 
house, you gambler!’’ 

“You are a liar,” retored Roll in great indignation. 

Quickly the furious old man struck the German over the 
head with his stick. Roll grappled with his assailant and 
wrenched the cane from his hand and then drew aside to wipe 
away the blood, which was streaming over his forehead and 
blinding him. M. Tehorjevsky, free again, swiftly ran to his 
bed and, drawing a pistol from beneath a pillow, he again 
advanced towards the bleeding man. 

“Now, I will shoot and shoot to kill you,” cried the old 
Polish revolutionist, but before he could do so Roll seized his 
wrists and drew both of his assailant’s arms behind his back. 
He struggled to aim his pistol at his son-in-law, but in his 
awkward position, was compelled to guess at the position of 
the revolver in relation to Roll’s body. He discharged the 
pistol when it was upright and the bullet lodged in his own 

112 


face near the temple. He sank slowly to the floor, quite 
unconscious. 

Actuated by a sense of prudence and realizing his dan- 
gerous and what appeared to be his equivocal relationship to 
the whole affair, Roll raised his father-in-law to a sitting posi- 
tion and then, by a great exertion, placed him in a chair. The 
pistol he put in the hand of the still unconscious man and left 
his pipe on the floor where it had fallen. He also placed a 
pencil and writing paper in his father-in-law’s lap. Roll then 
hurried out of the room into, a corridor. He met an excited 
servant, and to his frightened inquiries the soldier replied, 
‘‘I, too, heard the report of a pistol.” Another servant rushed 
to the door of his master’s room, opened it and saw the bleed- 
ing and unconscious form. He was followed by other servants 
who gave the alarm. They were so excited no effort was made 
to assist M. Tchorjevsky. 

Madam Roll heard the cries of the servants and rushed 
to her father’s side. 

“Father is killed,” she screamed as she violently shook 
the insensible man. “My God! How did this awful thing 
happen ? ’ ’ 

One servant ran to the office of the major-domo repeating, 
^ ‘ Our lord is dead I Our lord is dead ! ’ ’ and then ran out again. 
The major-domo following him, heard Madam Roll confirming 
the news. She was leaning out of the window ordering the 
fear-stricken servants to go for the family physician. The 
major-domo himself hurried to the stable and mounting one 
unsaddled horse and leading another he galloped to the doc- 
tor’s residence in the nearby village. Roll, who had removed 
all traces of blood from his face and recovered his composure, 
entered the room and joined his wife. 

“How did it happen?” she inquired. “You must know?” 

“Why do you think I know?” replied her husband, bend- 
ing over the unconscious form of his father-in-law. 

“Why you asked for father not five minutes ago. Tell 
me, dear.” 

Roll did not answer. He turned and gazed closely into 
the face of a servant standing in the room. In an absent- 
minded way he scrutinized him closely. It was the servant, 
a new one, who had seen him rushing from the room immedi- 
ately after the shooting. His scrutiny excited the fear of the 
man who thought that possibly he might be accused of com- 
plicity in the affair and of even discharging the weapon, him- 

113 


self. Visions of an arrest and of Siberia appeared before him. 
Turning to Madam Roll he pointed to her husband and said 
in a trembling voice, saw him running from the room 
right after the shot was fired. I will take my oath.” 

Madam Roll arose from her father’s side. She was hys- 
terical and doubtless was not in possession of her normal fac- 
ulties when she said to her husband with a scornful look, ‘^So 
you are the assassin of my poor father?” Then she began to 
violently weep. 

Roll raised his hands. ‘'No, no, Marie! you accuse me 
falsely.” And he endeavored to take the pistol from the 
hand of her father. Marie held him back and cried for help. 
The servants entered. 

“Go!” ordered Roll. “I am. your master. I warn you. 
Go ! ” and the servants ran away. 

Madam Roll quickly took the pistol from her father’s 
hand and placing it against the breast of her husband ordered 
him to be seated. 

“Marie, I’ve had enough of this sort of thing of accusa- 
tion after accusation. And now the last comes from you.” 
He reached out for the pistol, but his wife backed away 
and threatened to shoot the general’s hands if he did not 
withdraw them. 

“Shoot here,” he said, as he threw aside his coat. “If 
you do not shoot I will kill myself — I am so tired of it all.” 

Madam Roll on hearing this suicidal threat discharged the 
only remaining bullet in the pistol through the open window 
and threw the weapon after it. Again the servants rushed to 
the door and heard Madam Roll begging her husband not to 
kill himself and leave her alone with the children, and then 
they again as quickly departed. 

When the major-domo returned he was acompanied by the 
physician and two detectives. The gardener quickly said to 
them : ‘ ‘ Go upstairs at once ! General Roll wihses to kill him- 
self.” They ran to the room, knocked and received no answer. 
The door was locked. 

“Let us in,” said the major-domo. “We have the doctor.” 
There was no answer. A valet attached to M. Tchorjevsky 
pressed a secret bolt and the closed door flew open. 

The detectives stood on the threshold, but the major domo 
entered. Madam Roll was lying in a faint, at last overcome 
by her terrifying experiences and mental distress. Her hus- 
band was bathing M. Tchorjevsky ’s wounded face. “He has 

114 


killed them both!” said the major-domo to the detectives who 
attempted to hand-cuff General Roll. 

“You will permit me,” said the General to the detectives, 
“to go to my room and change my clothes.” 

The physician applied restoratives and Madam Roll re- 
covered consciousness. 

“Where is Frank?” she asked. 

“He has been arrested,” replied the major domo, “for 
the assassination of your father.” 

“Prank is innocent. My father, you old scoundrel,” 
replied Madam Roll, “told me only a moment before I 
fainted that he had shot himself accidentally. My husband 
has been wrongfully accused.” 

“Madam Roll evidently has exactly stated the case,” in- 
tercepted the physician after examining the wound in M, Tchor- 
jevsky’s face. Her father has shot himself and of course by 
accident.” And turning quickly around he caught the major- 
domo in the act of whispering to the detectives who had sud- 
denly become very nervous. 

The doctor called the new manager of the farm, the major- 
domo, to assist in putting his master to bed. 

A moment later the physician heard Mrs. Roll, who had 
left the room to join her husband, cry out to the detectives 
“Let my husband alone!” Accompanied by the major- 
domo he hurried to Mrs. Roll. One detective held her by the 
hand while the other covered General Roll with a revolver. 
The General was in full uniform and wore his crosses and 
decorations. In his hand he held the parchment open disclos- 
ing his escutcheon and his new title of Baron Roll. As the 
doctor made his appearance the General quickly seized and 
twisted the pistol out of the officer’s hand. Then he stood all 
three, the detectives and the majorMomo, in a line and dis- 
armed them. 

“You are not only criminals but fools as well,” he said, 
“for you refuse to obey the authority of a Russian General in 
full uniform and bearing a title bestowed by the Emperor.” 
Looking the major-domo in the eyes he sternly demanded to 
be told the sum of money he had paid the detectives that day 
in the village. “Confess,” he said, “or I will blow out your 
brains.” The major-domo confessed he paid the detectives 
and was permitted, afterward, to write his confession, added 
to which were the statements of the detectives. The three men 
were then locked up for the night in a guarded room beneath 

115 


the castle. The doctor advised General Roll and his wife to 
retire to their bed chamber for a rest, which both very much 
needed, and returned to his patient. 

CHAPTER XXVII 

The next morning the condition of M. Tchorjevsky was 
very improved. Madam Roll visited him before breakfast and 
conveyed the news of his improvement to her husband. 

Later on that morning, all of the servants, including the 
major-domo and also the two criminal peace-officers were called 
into the guest hall. The servants were made to swear before 
the imperial eagle that they in the future would be true to 
the Emperor, to the house of Tchorjevsky and to Baron Roll. 
To the niajor-domo General Roll said with the point of a sword 
at the miscreant’s throat. 

“It may be my duty to slit your throat, you mendacious 
ingrate. You have been bold enough in my absence to express 
your personal admiration of Madam Roll, and but for her 
prayers, I would kill you as I might a dog.” He then dis- 
missed the servants. 

When the detectives realized that General Roll might use 
against them the confession made and signed on the previous 
night they offered him a package of bank notes. “Your excel- 
lency,” one of them said, “you need money. Take this and 
permit us to escape.” General Roll hotly replied, “Who told 
you I needed money?” And taking the package he hurled it 
back in the speaker’s face. The bills floated about the room 
and fell upon the floor. 

“My lord, if you will allow, I will add to my confession 
statements which will prove of service to you and drive away 
from my master’s mind some unjust suspicions,” said the 
major-domo, cringing at the General’s feet. 

CONFESSION OP THE MAJOR-DOMO 
CHAPTER XXVIII 

The major-domo’s confession was contradictory and, at 
all times, even when he was relating facts was colored by in- 
uendo with the purpose of exculpating himself. 

It developed almost at the start that he had repeated to 
M. Tchorjevsky, at the suggestion of the cashier of the farm, 
who had charge of the disbursements of products, the false 

116 


story of the gambling indulged in by General Roll when absent 
from home in Mt. San Nicolas and that he had systematically 
poisoned the mind of his master by repeated statements of that 
officer ’s misconduct. 

He related a remarkable version of a meeting between him- 
self and the cashier whose integrity his employer always 
doubted. This meeting took place in the cashier’s office, and 
the clever manager described it in a thrilling and dramatic 
way. 

He swore the cashier locked him in the office and com- 
pelled him on pain of death to sign a bill of sale of products 
valued at forty-one thousand rubles after giving him one thous- 
and rubles. Among other means employed in forcing him into 
this partnership was the following: 

Itzko, an accomplice of the cashier and an emissary of a 
group of nihilists led by one Hickman was concealed in the 
office. He approached, at a signal, the major-domo from be- 
hind while the cashier held him quiet at the muzzle of a re- 
volver. Through a mirror in the little office the terrified fellow 
saw Itzko holding a large poisonous spider between the fingers 
of one hand as he grasped a short dagger in the other. As the 
spider struggled to be free it dropped venom on the floor, and 
Itzko slipped the point of the dagger in the big insect’s mouth, 
bathing its point in deadly poison. He then jabbed the end of 
the ugly blade against the major-domo’s back and told him if 
he did not sign the bill of sale and accept and receipt for five 
thousand rubles which the cashier proposed to give him as an 
advanced payment of his share of the proceeds of the fraud- 
ulent transaction, he would drive the point of the knife into 
his flesh. Thus he would be quietly disposed of and his killing 
create no alarm. 

The major-domo signed and accepted all of the conditions, 
including the five thousand rubles, and swore he would not 
reveal the part the cashier had played in this crime. If he 
broke his word the anihilists of Kiev would torture and make 
away with him, he was told. He was then released and on 
returning to the castle related his story to his master and 
told it in such a way as to lead him to believe the cashier was 
Frank Roll’s agent. The wily servant added the fear of an 
early death prevented him from telling more of the peculiar 
transaction, but he offered to his master the five thousand 
rubles as evidence of the truth of his story. This improbable 
yarn was believed by M. Tchorjevsky, and he actually thought 

117 


his son-in-law to be a thief. The three thousand rubles he 
securely locked in his safe. He then ordered his manager to 
write and sign a statement of how he came in possession of 
the money, but the major-domo refused to do so. His master 
seized a copper knife, used for opening letters, and was about 
to stab the manager to death when Madam Roll entered and 
interceded for the rascal. 

“This man, Marie,’’ said her father, “is the dishonest 
partner of your husband who is a conniving soundrel and a 
thief. ’ ’ 

Angy words, followed this charge, between father and 
daughter, and the whole castle was in an uproar. Finally, the 
major-domo agreed to sign a so-called confession in detail of 
the strange co-partnership formed in the cashier’s office. 

General Roll recognized the involved conspiracy of which 
his ruin and death were the chief objects. For the first time, 
he was made aware of the true source of the rumors involving 
his good name in connection with the death of Marie’s first 
husband and of the abduction of his son. The major-domo 
and other witnesses for whom he had sent to confirm the con- 
fession of that official including the cashier, testified that the 
servants of the household and other persons had been paid by 
certain Russian officers to spread evil rumors concerning 
Marie ’s husband. These conspirators kept alive the rumor that 
Frank Roll was the murderer of Captain Tchorjevsky in many 
different and subtle ways. 

A rejected suitor for the hand of Marie, and a prominent 
officer of the Russian army, was the author and promoter of 
this fallacious and cruel statement which had pursued Frank 
Roll for nearly twenty years. 

At this impromptu hearing it was made evident by the 
testimony and confessions of the servants on the estate that 
the abduction of William, Marie’s first born, was a part of 
the despicable scheme of revenge formulated in the jealous and 
envious minds of the rejected suitor and carried out by his 
paid accomplices. 

The Russian officers involved in the dastardly attempt 
to wreck M. Tchorjevsky ’s home by destroying his confidence 
in his son-in-law were never brought to book. This intrigue 
had nearly as many ramifications as a political or military 
plot against a national government and it was deemed wise 
to close forever the discussion of the painful subject. 

Some of the servants were discharged and threatened with 

118 


extreme punishment if they were ever detected in divulging 
or in discussing abroad the private history of the family. 
Others, because they had been only the ignorant and pliant 
instruments of their superiors were warned, pardoned and 
returned to their accustomed vocations on the farm. The in- 
famous major-domo was deprived of the money he had accum- 
ulted by thefts from the estate during the time he had it in 
charge and also the large sums paid him by Russian agents 
to defame and also to attempt the assassination of Frank Roll. 
M. Tchorjevsky so managed the affair that the rascal was 
quietly exiled to Siberia. Itzko was also committed to the coal 
mines of that dreaded country on his own confession that he 
had conspired against the Government and stole in order to 
aid the treasury of the nihilists. 

The detectives, who are really, in Russia, soldiers in civilian 
dress, confessed to the receipt of bribes from the major-domo 
for their attempt to humiliate a Russian general and were sen- 
tenced to hard labor in a military prison. 

M. Tchorjevsky never entirely recovered of his self-in- 
flicted wounds, which did not trouble him one-half so much 
as his wounded pride. The realization that for years he had 
been the scape-goat of his own servants and of other designing 
persons was ever the source of the keenest humiliation to his 
proud spirit. However, he endeavored to make atonement 
to his son-in-law and in time took him whole-heartedly into his 
confidence and his affections. He added a codicil to his will 
in which he bequeathed to Frank Roll, the General’s boy, 
a large share of his properties. To Marie and her children 
he became the embodiment of paternal love and toward the 
last, as old age subdued his fierce passions and prejudices, his 
mind and heart grew beautifully sweet and tender. 

BRIEF SKETCH OF WILLIAM ROLL 
CHAPTER XXIX 

It would be difficult in these days of abundant oppor- 
tunities to find a youth, possessed of average mind and unusual 
sensibilities, who believed himself to be the victim of uncon- 
querable circumstance. The spirits of the immature and the 
inexperienced are elastic, and kind nature is ever ready to 
offer the cup of Hope to assauge the bitterness of recurring 
disappointments. Although born apparently under the most 

119 


fortuitous conditions William Roll at an early age was sub- 
jected to the ironies and cruelties of fate and has for some 
mysterious reason been pursued by them up to a period ending, 
at least for the time being, not a great while ago. 

When a child, it will be remebered by those who have 
read in its entirety this imperfect narration, he was kidnaped 
from home and separated for months from the distracted mem- 
bers of his powerful and aristocratic family. The love of his 
mother, the lure of gold and the fierce determination of his 
maternal grandfather restored him to safety and affection. 
As his education, directed by private tutors, progressed, the 
youth evinced qualities positively repugnant to the one person 
authorized to control his acts and his speech. At an early age 
he became a democrat, or to use his quaint vernacular, ‘^a 
libertarian” or lover of liberty. This was a very serious 
offence in Russia not very many years ago, whether such prin- 
ciples were manifested in the home circle or abroad. Young 
Roll was possessed of a warm, sympathetic nature and seems 
to have realized that all of God’s reasoning creatures are en- 
dowed with the same fundamental qualities of mind, body and 
soul. His mental perceptions during their youthful expansion 
glimpsed the narrow and awful lives of the Russian peasantry, 
their debasing servitude and the infinitely corrupt and barbaric 
practices of the Russian plutocratic classes. He could not find 
or could not understand any reason to justify acts he witnessed 
on his grandfather’s estate and on other large private prop- 
erties, such as the heavy tasks, the indifferent and meager food, 
the beggarly compensation, the flesh-tearing floggings and the 
forceful blow with the butt of a heavy pistol. His mother had 
taught him he was made not only after the image of God, but 
that he possessed something of the Divine Spirit. 

Who gave one class of the Almighty’s creatures the right 
to override and to trample and to mangle another class of 
God’s handiwork? Vaguely the young man pondered this and 
similar questions. Meanwhile, he gave his spending money to 
the poor, numbered among his friends some of the meanest 
of the village boys, angered his family circle and himself, grew 
distant and reserved. 

Nature had given young Roll a robust physique which was 
to serve him well during critical periods of his future career. 
He was fond of simple pursuits and exercises, running, leaping, 
walking, riding and boxing, and a long tramp in the woods 
or over great stretches of virgin soil was a happy diversion. 

120 


These walks were occasions for youthful reflections, some of 
which, being a strong, healthy lad, were of course pleasant; 
others, very likely, were of a serious if not of a sad direction. 
Approaching manhood he found himself unjustly dispossessed 
of a considerable share of a large fortune. Young Roll prob- 
ably had intended using this income for purposes not at all 
in harmony with the thought and the century-old customs of 
his forbears. He had desired the fortune to gratify his love 
of his fellowman and without respect to social or political 
conventions. His dream vanished and a powerful instrument 
for accomplishing what he believed might have proved a public 
benefit passed into the hands of autocracy. 

Smarting under this, William left the castle of his grand- 
father and wandered about the country studying and reading 
and mixing socially with the people who actually cultivated 
the soil. Returning, he was greeted with affection by some 
of the members of the family who thought he was an embry- 
onic poet, by others with disfavor who thought him to be 
possessed of dangerous political views and wholeheartedly by 
the workers on the huge farm and also the house servants. 

Life at home, to this young man with aspirations to serve 
his fellows, without let or hindrance, aspirations which, not- 
withstanding apparent failure, he was permitted by example 
to gratify, was quite unendurable. Most men, especially young 
men, find encouragement and stimulus within the home circle 
to carry out their laudable efforts. To be compassionate, to be 
just, to be humanly merciful to all men is not a wicked creed. 
Then why oppose it ? 

William was disgusted with the old systems of Russia. He 
was an omnivorous reader, observant and reflective. He di- 
gested his reading of social, economic and so-called political 
problems by comparison and contrast. He surveyed labor con- 
ditions in England, in the United States and in Continental 
Europe thoughtfully, following out their evolution and wit- 
nessed with interest their slow but gradual emancipation from 
harsh and restrictive measures and the gradual improvement 
taking place in the social environment of the wage earners of 
these countries. William had elected at one time to be an 
agriculturalist, and taxes, land occupancy, productivity and the 
efficiency of farm labor possesed for him more or less of 
personal interest. 

On the other hand young Roll had before him the con- 
tinuous panorama of the artificial life of the autocracy of his 

121 


own country about which there was little of sincerity. The 
Russian land owners were frank and honest only when inflict- 
ing punishment or in pillaging their alleged inferiors. As a 
class, they were densely ignorant and opposed to reform. 

An unsuccessful attempt to make the boy a priest resulted 
in his outspoken rebellion to parental rule. He would shape 
his career to suit himself and did not yearn for monastic con- 
trol and guidance. Again he left home and after aimlessly 
drifting from city to city he entered the University of Kiev. 

Now, at the age of forty-five, William Roll cannot recall 
a period of his boyhood when he was boyishly or naturally 
happy. Doubtless, there are many men, who in this respect 
are like him, but few who have had, during their days of 
adolescence as many effective obstacles placed in their way to 
happiness, by the very persons whose duty it was to add to 
their youthful enthusiasm, as had this young Pole. Pride 
of birth, social preferment, wealth and titles became to him 
as a consequence the repellent signs of oppression, bigotry and 
an insufferable egoism. He commenced his university career 
at the point in his political views where the larger number of 
Russian students leave it — a confirmed hater and bitter enemy 
of autocracy. 

Roll was a conscientious student in the sense that he was 
diligent and thorough and easily won class-position. In the 
polytechnic and agricultural colleges he was brilliantly suc- 
cessful and his fellows were proud of the honors he won. 
Always as generous with his money as he was with his opinions, 
he supported in comfort several students as intellectual as 
himself, yet poverty stricken. His criticisms of the existing 
order of things as manifested in the state, in church and society 
were fearlessly criticized by him and served to attach to him 
the attention of the government. His family implored the 
student to end forever his seditious and inflammatory utter- 
ances and its influence at court served, for a time, to protect 
him from arrest. 

In the interval. Roll wrote and, with the consent of the 
government, published a small volume on the agricultural re- 
sources of the empire, on labor as applied to rural activities, 
on the chemistry of soils and on needed reforms. His scientific 
conclusions were interlarded with a subtle philosophy so clev- 
erly woven into the supposed main ob.ject of the book it escaped 
the adverse comments of the censors for several years. Finally, 
the book was proscribed by official order and a short time 

122 


subsequent to this ban he delivered before several thousand 
students an eloquent and surprising lecture on the ‘‘Universal 
Brotherhood of Man.” 

This was the last straw, and the government resolved to 
check the career of the “Hero of Ukrania,” as he was generally 
known to the Russian students of revolutianary tendencies. 

Thousands of persons had, prior to the year 1904, become 
somewhat familiar with the old Siberia, and the horrors exper- 
ienced there by the unfortunates serving sentences of exile for 
political and other reasons. Books and contributions to peri- 
odicals written by men and women who had themselves suf- 
fered from the avarice and brutality of the guards, patrols and 
prison-keepers were published and received. There is nothing 
new in the revelations of William Roll. He says himself, many 
men and some women were made to undergo far more indig- 
nities and cruelties. However, his experiences were so severe 
and ingeniously painful his life was saved only by the exercise 
of the greatest patience and a supreme effort of the will. Had 
he been enabled to change his name or identity he might have 
escaped some of the penalties his career as a revolutionist 
brought upon him, but that was impossible. 

He was known as a dangerous man and always as William 
Roll of Ukrania. He was bitterly hated by all of the repre- 
sentatives of the empire in Siberia, and as a man who forsook 
the traditions of autocracy to become an influential leader of 
political malefactors. 

Roll was captured, after a thrilling and melodramatic 
flight, by Cossacks and conveyed to the infamous prison, sadly 
known Petropowlovski, in St. Petersburg. Had it not been for 
the interposition and advice of a few friends he doubtless 
would have been sentenced to solitary confinement and held in 
an absolutely dark dungeon until death effected his release. 
He was held for two weeks in isolation and darkness and at 
the expiration of that time he concluded to feign insanity. 
This he did so cleverly he deceived the friends who had advised 
him to attempt the subterfuge. Roll was tested and tortured 
by savage and primitive agencies and methods. He was slub- 
bed and manhandled, endured the deep pricking of pins and 
needles, slow starvation and long hours of the closest scrutiny 
while strapped to a board, sometimes placed in a horizontal 
and sometimes in a vertical position. His nerves remained 
unshaken and he successfully passed through every ordeal. 
Roll affected dementia of a mild type and was immensely de- 

123 


lighted when after an imprisonment of nearly three months 
in Petropowlovski he was judged fit for the army then in Man- 
churia fighting the Japanese. He was sent to Siberia and from 
prison to prison he was always posing as a man whose mind was 
unbalanced, but was always known as William Roll. When he 
refused to give money to the guards he was bayonnetted. His 
back and thighs have been pierced to the depths of an inch or 
more a dozen times. Upon one occasion, having been bruised 
and beaten by his burly keepers, his shins kicked until the 
flesh was broken, his hair pulled out by the roots and his 
face spat upon, he fainted. When prone upon the ground his 
keepers walked back and forth over his chest and face leaving 
wounds whose scars are still visible on his cheeks, temples 
and forehead. When this fearful promenade was completed 
the guards, believing him dead, picked up his limp body and 
threw it on a pile of snow and refuse. 

The detachment to which Roll was assigned, after leaving 
Harbin reached the Yalu River after many hardships. It was 
engaged in building railroads and engineering ventures. A 
rather peculiar state of affairs existed in Manchuria, during 
the war between Russia and Japan in that the Chinese were, to 
a certain extent friendly with the Japanese and fraternized with 
the Russian soldiers. Both Chinese and Japaneses fortifica- 
tions were frequent in the east side of the Yalu River. 

The Russian officers treated Roll with the utmost severity. 
He became aware of their intention of advancing him to a post 
of greatest danger on the slightest pretext. So he determined 
to escape. He made an acquaintance who was willing to make 
the hazardous attempt and, together, they eluded the Russian 
outposts and safely got beyond the advanced lines. Their first 
purpose was to cross the Yalu River and follow it to the ocean 
on the eastern bank. After pasing the Russian lines they 
entered the river which, for several miles on the western side, 
was shallow and filled with vegetation. They then waded 
down the stream through mud, sometimes reaching to their 
waists, but at all times protected by the tall marine grasses 
and weeds. Thus they proceeded for two miles and then 
securing two light boxes they drew these over their heads and 
shoulders and swam the river to the opposite bank. In cross- 
ing the Yalu the men were separated. Roll crawled up the 
bank and was immediately arrested by a Japaneses picket. 
His prison was constructed of adobe blocks and after several 
attempts, he dislodged one, leaving an opening large enough 

124 


through which to pass his body. He then did a peculiar thing. 
He had heard that the Japanese and Chinese were supersti- 
tious and dreaded the appearance of a ghost, especially a white 
ghost. So to effect his escape he removed his muddy clothing, 
stepped through the hole he had made in the wall and stole 
into the dim light — a softly gliding, gray shadow. Faster and 
faster he moved until the alarm was given, for his ruse had 
been quickly detected. And now a desperate chase was on. 
The fleeing man, not knowing his ground, was forced to 
twist and turn and run over ice, frozen upturned clods, through 
thorny brush and stony streams without 'shoes or stockings. 
At last he sank exhausted and chilled in an open shed. Pres- 
ently a window was opened and he saw a Chinese woman, 
much to his embarrrassment, steadily looking at him. She im- 
mediately recognized him as a man who had some time before 
befriended her. In a moment, she held up a warning finger 
and then passed through the window a Chinese costume which 
Poll quickly appropriated. He entered the house proper and 
was warmed and fed. This woman possessed a grateful heart. 
She had, during the war between China and Russia, been lib- 
erally treated by the Russian soldiers and exampled her grat- 
itude by caring for Roll with the utmost kindness. 

She aided him to hide beneath the load in a cart filled with 
forage. As the vehicle passed down the well-traveled road 
patrols of pickets would halt it and drive their bayonets into 
the load of alfalfa. By much wriggling and turning of his body 
the pasenger escaped unhurt although seriously shocked with 
fear, at intervals. The Chinese reached the end of his journey 
at a native roadside inn. Here Roll happily met the friend 
he had lost in crosing the Yalu River and together the com- 
rades started afoot for Cheefoo. 

On approaching a Russian or Japanese fort they would 
make a wide detour. The pair suffered serious deprivations 
and experienced many thrilling episodes. The cold was in- 
tense and their hunger was never appeased. They could hear 
the guns in action at Port Arthur and frequently felt the 
earth tremble beneath their feet. They waded down aque- 
ducts, canals and streams choked with the putrifying bodies of 
both Japanese and Russian soldiers. Pure water was scarce 
and their thirst at times intolerable, yet they never faltered for 
long, and kept up their brave march until they proudly entered 
Cheefoo. 

Both Roll and his companion were afraid to register as 


125 


passengers on any ship at that time in port. In a sailor’s 
saloon, however, they bought the privilege of stealing on board 
a Swedish ship and traveling as stowaways to Chile. 

Mr. Roll’s finances were rehabilitated in Chile and after 
extensive explorations, both mining and archaeological, he re- 
turned to Europe and made his residence in Rome. He made 
several trips to the United States and on one of these was 
married. His foreign connections enabled him to complete 
certain arrangemnts with President Diaz and subsequently 
with President Madero by which he colonized large tracts of 
land in that republic. He also became a labor agent for large 
American railway interests and also ojperated mines in Arizona. 
Huerta’s soldiers seized and held captive Mrs. Roll and her 
two baby daughters, but a heavy random assured their safe 
pasage to Vera Cruz from, which city the family proceeded to 
San Francisco. Mr. Roll yet has large land holdings in Russia. 
Never since the day he locked up his beautiful and ancient 
home in Ukrania and dismissed his servants has he ever visited 
his native land. By reason of his love for universal freedom 
Mr. Roll has decided to spend the remainder of his days with 
the great American people. 


126 



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